Chapter 263 Eight-clawed spider?
He lay on the wooden board, and the rich smell of salt and smoke wrapped around him, reminding him of the salted fish sitting on the chopping board, waiting for the cutter.
His legs were numb, the bloodstains had long since dried, and the severe pain may still be there, or it may not be there and he couldn't feel it anymore.
Coming out of King's Landing, the entire royal territory seemed to be hit by heavy rain.
Varys kept coughing and begging.
"O gods old and new, end my pain, end me."
As a result, his legs were broken and poison was poured into his mouth. Wallis knew the taste of the medicine. It was bitter and dry, making the roots of his teeth soft, which basically prevented him from even biting his tongue.
A born intelligence manager, a born little bird.
"Cough cough cough!" Wallis coughed up a trace of fresh blood.
Evan Aylin looked at him sideways. It was probably because the wind-swept wilderness was too cold. Varys felt as if his body was uncontrollable and he couldn't stop trembling. There were knots at the bottom of each vellus hair, standing straight.
The iron glove was thrown on his back, making a crisp sound, "The spider cannot die. The Duke needs to pry out more than a little bit of information from his mouth."
The gorgeous golden eagle is also so vicious. The contempt and contempt in Wallis's heart have long been washed away by the heavy rain, and his heart is empty, leaving only the sound of despair.
"Tsk tsk tsk~"
He heard a clear sneer. The voice sounded so familiar. Wallis opened his mouth. Wasn't this his own voice hiding in the dark and waiting for the situation to become clear? Exclusive to the Eight-clawed Spider, exclusive to the Intelligence Director.
"If I hadn't reacted in time, only the gods would know what ridiculous things your people would have done in the Great Temple of Baelor." Evan Aylin raised his eyebrows, his whole face full of ridicule.
With a victor's tone, Wallis coughed again, his saliva mixed with the wet sawdust pimples, making his nose itchy and causing him to cough continuously.
His words were as fancy and childish as his appearance, how could he be defeated by this person?
The eight-clawed spider became the grasshopper's meal. It was really ironic that Varys felt gloomy in his heart.
"Long live Stannis!" Evan Arryn waved his arms provocatively. "Wonderful work." He boasted.
Varys was speechless. Thinking of the unknown assassins who were the first to mislead the people, his chest seemed to be pressed and blocked by a big stone, making it difficult to breathe.
"The tender meat oozing with fat, the clanking golden dragon, and the unprecedented drama in King's Landing. If we don't seize the opportunity, how can the Andals spread their wings and fly high under the protection of the Arryn family?"
The wheel suddenly shook, and Wallis's mouth and nose repeatedly hit the salt-smelling wooden board. His fat body twisted and remained silent.
He could recognize where this road led, to the king's barracks of the Valemen, or to Harrenhal occupied by Arryn.
“People pray to Heavenly Father for judgment so that justice may be done”
Joffrey was drowsy, his sleepy eyes struggling, and the whip fell rapidly.
"No!" He screamed, but he was still a step too late, and a bloodstain appeared on the king's back.
"Ah wow wow!" Joffrey moved his limbs slowly, as if the last bit of strength had been drained out by the whip, and choked cries flowed from his mouth, just like his uncontrollable nose and saliva.
The nun held up the whip and looked at him indifferently, "Who are you?"
Joffrey's lips were trembling, obviously not because of the cold, but because of fear. His neck twitched unusually, and the contraction of the muscles could be clearly seen.
"I'm thirsty for water." Joffrey stretched his neck, veins bulging clearly along his temples, and he looked pleading.
Damn it! Damn it! This is the expression of a sheep, not a stag! Not Baratheon!
The nun rarely showed pity in her eyes, "Everyone in the world is thirsty, can't you see that Your Majesty?"
"Crack!"
Another whip went down.
"Ah wow wow!!!" Joffrey wailed, kneeling down in pain and begging for mercy, but what he got in exchange was another beating.
The door opened softly and "squeaked~" Joffrey looked at the person who came. Gray hair and eyebrows covered the obvious wrinkles on his face.
So kind. A strange feeling of closeness surged into Joffrey's heart, and he couldn't help but hunched his limbs and crawled on the floor in a twisted manner, "Shui Shui." Bloodshot eyes filled the whites of his eyes, like a dying person.
A touch of coolness and even sweetness touched his lips, and Joffrey's head stopped there, slightly stunned.
Then there was swallowing, swallowing water with all his strength, like vultures fighting for rotten flesh and blood.
"May the Seven Gods bless you, Your Majesty." The High Sparrow knelt down and smiled at him.
Joffrey swallowed, tears streaming down his face, his throat seemed to be choked, and he said word by word, "I, I. Pray for the protection of the gods and gods"
The High Sparrow stretched out his arm, hugged Joffrey, and patted his back, "Of course they will bless you. You are a king, a king blessed by God, and his rainbow sword is prepared for you. ”
Joffrey swallowed his snot and tears and whimpered "Yeah"
"Good boy." The High Sparrow drew out his arms and closed the door ruthlessly in Joffrey's pleading voice.
"Don't go! Don't go! Wow!"
Whip, king, begging for mercy, nun. In the dark cabin.
"I will be very useful to you, Duke Attis." Varys swallowed the blood, tasting the fishy sweetness in the blood.
Attis looked at Varys. He had never thought that he would have anything to do with the famous eight-clawed spider, the intelligence minister of two dynasties. After all, the lord of the valley only needed to maintain the order of the kingdom and rest peacefully in the eagle. In Nest City, even if you don’t care about government affairs, it’s not a bad thing to leave all things to the Gate of the Moon. It might be more efficient
"King Robert's death, this war, the whereabouts of Wildfire, there are all strange things," Attis said, staring at Varys' eyes that were tortured to the point of collapse, "There are too many strange things, you are in King's Landing, there is nothing I don’t know, come on.” He stood up and picked up the wine glass beside him. “Moisturize your throat and tell me slowly, who are you loyal to, Stannis? Not like Tywin, it’s impossible, who else? ? Tell me, your life is safe.”
Varys fell silent and closed his eyes as if resigned to his fate.
Evan Aylin looked at the Duke, who sighed softly and nodded.
Spider was dragged into prison and tortured.
If the red-robed woman was here, things would become much simpler. Attis thought to himself, and couldn't help but look out the window. The huge Divine Eye Lake seemed to be melted white wax, and the water flow seen by the naked eye was much slower.
He just sat there, waiting for Golden Eagle to give him an answer.
From day to night, from extinguished candle ashes to lit oil droplets, Attis held the book in his hands and made marks on the paper.
Evan Aylin walked over, holding Spider's answer in his hand.
"Dead?"
"Not yet."
"Drag it out."
Attis stood up, and Angai and Harold Haddon quickly followed, carrying armor and swords on their backs.
The knights of the valley gathered around, and a huge bonfire rose in the center of the castle, surrounded by towers, as if in the palm of Heron's hand.
"In the name of Robert I of House Baratheon, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Ruler of the Seven Kingdoms, and Warden of the Realm, I, Lord of the Eyrie, Warden of the Trident And the Guardian of the East, Attis of House Arryn, hereby sentences you to death.”
Wallis lowered his head, leaving the last look on his face that was one of shock, mixed with unwillingness.
The head fell to the ground, and another corpse was added to Harrenhal.
Eight-clawed spider?
There are no more eight-clawed spiders in Westeros.
(End of chapter)