Eagle of the Valley of Ice and Fire.

Chapter 293 Steel Street

Time stumbled by like a drunkard. Margaret curled up in the cold bed, feeling colder every night.

Joffrey's bedroom was always lit, and the creaking of the windows sounded like the chattering of an old maester in Highgarden. The sudden throbbing after the wind stopped was like the old nun who taught her court etiquette, royal etiquette, and mathematics, and her ability to bluff people was even better.

She became a queen, but became the most unsuitable queen.

They serve a nonexistent king and look up to an approaching power.

The original threat was suddenly swept away. Queen Mother Cersei was still mocking him in front of him the night before, and she met the stranger the next night.

The majestic Lord Tywin, in the blink of an eye, went from being the Hand of the King, who was praised by everyone, to a headless lion. It is said that the head was found by the Lannister family's servants in the flea kennel.

This feeling was so unreal and terrifying, terrifying in this empty castle and the uncertain future. Margaery curled up tighter in the bed, she didn't want to stay in King's Landing, a city full of filth, damp tunnels and hypocritical faces.

She wanted to return to Highgarden, to play with others in the green maze under the city walls, to look for wild fruits and vegetables in the green bushes, to taste the sweet fruits planted by the farmers, and to feel the lingering rain kissing her cheeks when the sky was cloudy.

She wanted to run to Loras immediately, wake him, and have him take a fast horse and send his squires before him, so that they could go southwest along the kingsroad, back to the Reach, back to Highgarden, even though the Dornish had burned it.

Margaery just sat there, staring out the window at the castle tower embedded in the moonlight, and the soldiers guarding the city took shifts, round after round.

The faint white light turned into lines and gathered into a point in the middle, inlaying the surface of the Narrow Sea with silver iron wires, like the pattern of the family emblem drawn on a knight's armor. She had seen her brother Loras find the best blacksmith in King's Landing to modify his armor, and the skill was unmatched even by the craftsmen in Highgarden.

At this time, Artis Arryn rode his horse in the night and came to Steel Street, a neighborhood inhabited entirely by blacksmiths and their apprentices. The houses became more expensive as one got to the top of the hill. In a stone temple on the top of the hill, there was a statue of the "Blacksmith". The closer one was to the temple, the higher one's status among the blacksmiths.

Evan Arlin's falcons were lurking in various corners of Steel Street, with small weapons hidden on their bodies, watching the surroundings vigilantly. The blue robes led the way, and even at night the street was still lively. The actors on stilts wandered along the street and were almost knocked over by the blue robes' horses with their hind legs. The magicians from the East Continent filled their mouths with smoke and blew out large flames, causing everyone to exclaim. The merchants selling wooden toys were shouting to attract customers. Attis noticed that the toys on the stalls were dragons, deer, lions, dire wolves and eagles.

The person they were looking for was at the top of the hill, in a huge house where Tobho Mott, the best blacksmith in the city, lived.

"Prime Minister," the blacksmith bowed and signaled the maid beside him to pour wine. "I wonder what you want to make for me. I bet no one in the city has my unique craft. No one can match my skill in painting armor and shields. Your father, Lord Jon Arryn, came here to ask me to make a falcon helmet. Maybe I can make a full set for you? A helmet in the shape of a falcon, a majestic armor, preferably plate armor made of fine steel, and a long sword with blue lines. I can even make a set for your warhorse. It is absolutely worthy of the status of Hand of the King."

"You are very polite," Attis said to Tob, and walked to the blacksmith's furnace and politely took the wine glass poured by the maid. The latter's cheeks were slightly red, revealing a lovely dimple. "I came here because I trust your reputation."

"Fame?" Tobho Mott was obviously confused.

"About some rumors," Artis said slowly, looking at Tob Mott, "I heard that you are the master blacksmith of King's Landing, the best blacksmith in Steel Street. I think there are hundreds of apprentices who listen to your skills at your forge."

"That's true." Tobho Mott laughed, like a coal-like flower blooming on the sentinel tree. "I want you to take the lead and help me lead the way. By then, you may not only be the best blacksmith in King's Landing, but the whole of Westeros will know your name." Artis said, taking a sip of wine.

Tobho Mott's eyes widened, "If you have anything to say, please let me know."

"The armory at Harrenhal is basically vacant, but it happens to be the largest in the Seven Kingdoms. It can accommodate 3,000 blacksmiths working day and night to forge weapons. But even if the entire Riverlands were emptied, there wouldn't be 3,000 blacksmiths. The best blacksmiths in Westeros are basically concentrated in King's Landing. It's a pity that the weapon forging in King's Landing is basically confined to workshops of individual households. The armory only has 30 forges, which can only produce simple iron swords and spears. I'm afraid that none of them can compare to what you have here."

"A blacksmith's skill is not quantity, but quality. This forge can reforge Valyrian steel!" Tobho Mott said, and then hesitantly said, "But I heard from you, Hand, that you want me to go to Harrenhal?"

"The castle of the children of the forest?" The maid beside her said with eyes shining with surprise.

"What a crooked talk! I'm talking about serious business with the Prime Minister! Don't listen to the bard's crazy talk." Tobho Mott scolded.

"Whether it is crazy talk or not," Attis put down his glass and smiled, "you will know it only after you get it."

Tobho Mott licked his lips. "But I'm used to living in King's Landing. The orders here are very generous."

"Harrenhal has no shortage of knights, and naturally no shortage of orders. I plan to hand over the arsenal to you and put you in charge."

"That's the job of a Harrenhal blacksmith."

"No," Attis smiled, "It's a position of an important minister under the Iron Throne. One can be baptized by the Archbishop and even sit on the Imperial Council."

"What!" Tob Mott's eyes widened. He didn't know whether the Prime Minister was trying to deceive him with the merchant's big cake, but the cake in front of him was too fragrant and too tempting.

"I believe you already have the answer in your mind, my lord." Atis nodded gently and walked to the door. "You have plenty of time. I hope that with your influence, more craftsmen can arrive at Harrenhal. It must be quick, otherwise the blacksmiths in the Vale, the Riverlands, and even the Reach will occupy the beds in advance, and then you can only sleep in tents."

Tobho Mott stared at him so blankly that he forgot to salute. By the time he came to his senses, Atis and his blue robe had already left the room.

Attis mounted his horse and looked at the thick night. If the time estimate was correct, the Golden Eagle's propaganda mission should be completed. The bards and singers in the Vale, the Riverlands and the Crownland were also spreading the legendary story of the Children of the Forest and the Andals renewing their alliance. Countless people in the Vale and the Three Rivers had witnessed the scene of the Children of the Forest entering the Mountains of the Moon under the protection of the Arryn banner, and it would soon spread throughout Westeros.

He took a deep breath and galloped out of Steel Street under the moonlight.

(End of this chapter)