Chapter 299 Dragon
Attis held Myrcella's hand and felt the warmth conveyed under the silk handkerchief.
The Hundred Furnaces Hall was empty, and the wind was blowing outside the window. Fortunately, the iron door was tightly closed, otherwise the temperature of the furnace fire would dissipate from time to time.
The Queen Mother's coffin lay quietly in front of the long table in the main hall, next to the Duke of Harrenhal's chair.
The coffin was opened, Cersei Lannister folded her hands on her abdomen, and two smooth stones with painted eye patterns pressed against her eyes, adding a sense of humor and absurdity to her pale face.
Myrcella's neck was stiff, and her eyes never moved away. She was wandering in one place, as if she was missing some of her spirit. She was just a puppet standing there, still needing the support of Attis.
"Myrcella," Attis reminded softly, "You have been standing for too long. Go back to your room and rest."
"No," Myrcella's voice was soft but firm. There were no tears in her eyes just now, but when she said it to Attis, her eyes suddenly became wet, and crystal tears rolled inside, "Let me wait."
Attis did not insist anymore and stretched out his arms to pull Myrcella into his arms. He remained silent and just let Myrcella cry in his arms.
After all, she is still a little girl, and it is unwise to force her nerves to pretend to be strong.
He had to find a way to let Myrcella relax, at least for now, to be a free princess, and to be a happy queen in the future, instead of letting her always think that she was being treated as a political bargaining chip and pawn.
Attis stroked Myrcella's black hair that had not completely faded, "I want to see your blonde hair. There is no need to ask Melisandre to dye her hair in the future, my princess."
Myrcella was stunned for a moment in his arms, raised her head slightly, looked at him blankly for a moment, stretched her neck, kissed Attis gently on the cheek, stopped talking, leaned her head on her chest, and closed her eyes. Eyes, let the tears decorate the cheeks.
Except for the five towers that tower over the top, Harrenhal still looks like twisted and deformed black fingers, and it still looks scary from the outside. Handicraftsmen take care of it and make it neatly organized.
Although Tob Mott has not yet brought the blacksmiths from King's Landing in batches, the farriers, toolmakers and blacksmiths who master the art of sword and chain mail casting from the Land of Three Rivers have already settled in Harrenhal, which has been deserted for a long time. Living rooms, towers, storage rooms.
Only half of the furnaces in the Hundred Furnaces Hall remain. Nearly a hundred furnaces were placed here when the tournament participants were entertained. Now there are only thirty-five furnaces left. The rest have been removed and placed in five Some interiors of the tower and many of the buildings in between.
The kitchen is a huge circular building, equivalent to the size of the main hall of Winterfell. Under the hemispherical roof is the kitchen. Forty or fifty cooks are busy inside, and more are in the military camp outside Harrenhal. Here, in addition to providing food for the thousands of soldiers stationed here, they also need to be delivered by blue robes to the increasingly large taverns along the King's Road anytime and anywhere.
Thinking about the fact that the Tails family was reduced to the embarrassing situation of only one cook in Harrenhal, it is really puzzling compared to the extremely huge Harrenhal.
After sending Myrcella back to her room, Attis walked around the fake wooden figures used for attendant training in the Flowstone Courtyard, passed through a low wall outside the godswood, and watched the dragon egg and the heart tree burn in the sea of fire. boiling.
"Every winter, the thirteen dark scratches on the Heart Tree bleed, and the most bleeding begins this winter," Steward Harrenhal murmured to himself as he walked sideways. The fat old man's nose was red from the cold, and his cheeks seemed drunk, as if he came here to keep warm. He looked at the pool of blood under the sea of fire, "Fortunately it wasn't real blood, but the woman in red robe threw a few more leeches into it. I don't know whose blood it sucked."
The steward seemed not to have seen him. He stood alone by the low wall of the godswood, watching silently. It was not until Attis walked past him that the latter caught a glimpse of the Duke's expensive blue woolen coat, Crescent Hunter. An eagle is painted on the cloak.
"Duke!" The steward jumped in surprise, like a fat spring bouncing from the ground. He touched the tip of his nose, "I'm sorry, I didn't see you."
"No need to be polite, Simon," Attis said, without taking his eyes away from the dragon egg. He pondered for a moment and then asked: "Can the dragon really come out?" "Look," Simon stretched out a finger. Pointing around, "The shadow of the heart tree almost covers the fire. This is the work of your shadowbinder."
Attis raised his eyebrows and raised his head, "Isn't it that Harrenhal's tower is too high?"
Simon suddenly choked and hesitated, "This, this, I want to say, there are so many capable people and strangers around the Duke. Although dragons are rare animals, they must be hatched. I am afraid." In front of his eyes. The figure of a dragon seemed to appear with its wings spread out, covering the sky and the sun, and the fear in his eyes became even more intense, "Everyone in the world knows that dragons are gods, and only Targaryen can tame them. There are also rumors about dragons in the Eastern Continent"
Before he could finish speaking, the green bachelor "Red Man" came over and staggered across the gravel, "Ms. Melisandre can do some blood magic, but it's not enough."
"What do you mean?" Attis asked.
"Red Man" breathed a sigh of relief, "At the beginning, the Valyrian people were just a group of nomads living near the ring volcanoes. They discovered dragons on the Fourteenth Fire Peak. They don't know why they mastered the method of controlling dragons. They only know that this It is an evil blood magic that requires a steady stream of blood sacrifices. In the end, the Valyrian people actually bound their bloodline to dragon control. The conditions are the same. The dragon's horn makes the dragon obedient, and the blood magic allows the dragon to merge with humans. ”
"Is this your guess?"
"It's a reasonable guess, and your red-robed woman also believes it." The son of the forest pointed to the back, and Melisandre's beautiful red figure appeared next to the fire, her eyes blurred in the fire.
Attis looked at the extending vines and intertwined roots of the Heart Tree. The fire around the Heart Tree was extremely intense, but it did not spread along the branches and vines. This must be Melisandre's role.
"So," Attis frowned, "we need a magician who is proficient in blood magic?"
"Red Man" nodded, "The hatching ceremony is very reasonable. I am sure that the dragon egg will hatch sooner or later. The long night in the north is approaching. The unfinished ghosts around Harrenhal have been nourished by the Heart Tree for so many years. The king's blood is here." There are many, even the thirteen scratches on the Heart Tree still have traces of Targaryen. We looked at the witch on Thousand Faces Islet." He paused, as if recalling.
"The witch of Harrenhal?" Attis thought of what was written in the book, "Ali River?"
"I can't thank you enough. You are so knowledgeable." Red Man's eyes were wide open and he looked at Attis with some admiration. "Ari Rivers hopes to give birth to her Targaryen child at Harrenhal. Many experiments have been done, and there are many traces of blood magic, which is why the dragon can hatch, but to tame it and make it obey Aelin's bloodline, I'm afraid it's not enough."
"Who knows blood magic?" This question came from the mouth of the steward Simon, but everyone's attention was attracted by the roaring sound coming from the flames.
Cracks extended downward from the top of the sky-blue dragon egg, and fragments of the shell fell into the fire. A head with blue scales and thorns emerged from it, opening its mouth with some fangs and screaming toward the sky.
dragon!
Marwen was driving a donkey cart, raising his whip and humming a little song, just like he was when he was strolling by the black ash river in the city of Asshai, except that there was no donkey cart at that time, and all animals entered the city of Asshai. All died tragically without exception. It seemed that only the deformed species in the shadow land outside the city of Asshai could survive in this land.
He hissed, and his finger was suddenly cut by something sharp, and a drop of blood flowed out.
"Haha!" He smiled. This was the same scene as when he left Asshai and ventured to Stea City.
This means good luck, Marwin thought to himself.
(End of chapter)