Varys clasped his hands together, then bowed slightly and said, "Prime Minister Tyrion, you have helped us regain our confidence in victory. King's Landing is impregnable."
Tyrion climbed out of his chair, limped over to get the wine pot and cups, and poured the wine as he said, "What I worry about most is still a traitor appearing within the city. A friend of mine told me that strong fortresses are often breached from within first."
Count Glynn had said this at the Small Council meeting before leaving King's Landing (Chapter 186). Hearing Tyrion's hint, Varys's eyes flickered.
Varys took the wine cup, sipped from it, and agreed, "Count Glynn is a rare friend."
Tyrion used the act of drinking to subtly observe Varys's expression... Hmm, he seemed very sincere.
"Then..."
Tyrion leaned against the table and said seriously, "My friend, please tell me your purpose."
He narrowed his gaze and continued, "What is the purpose of reporting these things to me?"
Varys gently put down his wine cup, paused, and sighed, "My Lord, what I am worried about is Queen Regent. From what I understand, this news has already spread within the Red Keep."
Tyrion swirled his wine cup and mused, "What do you think my sister, the Queen, will react when she hears about this? Will she believe it?"
Varys sighed again: "Lord Tyrion, that is precisely what I am worried about. We both know that Queen Regent is more willing to believe her own feelings than rational speculation."
After a pause, he continued, "The situation is chaotic right now, and the army on Crab Claw Point needs stability."
Tyrion tapped his fingers on the table and said, "Actually... everyone knows that Count Glynn is Cersei's sharpest sword, besides herself."
Varys nodded slightly and said, "A stable Crab Claw Point, even if it does nothing, can still tie down Stannis's Dragonstone. I think they realized this, which is why the subsequent events occurred."
Tyrion pondered for a moment, took a sip of summer red, and said, "Given Cersei's personality, she will recklessly order Glynn to return to King's Landing."
He looked at Varys, whose expression had turned solemn, and asked, "My friend, do you think Count Glynn should return?"
As Tyrion's words fell, Varys's pupils constricted slightly.
After a moment of silence, he said helplessly, "There is no other way, my Lord."
Tyrion raised his eyebrows and said, "I want to hear your reasons, Lord Varys."
Varys slowly said, "Prime Minister Tyrion, you have not only taken control of King's Landing in a short time but also established a delicate balance with Queen Regent while holding the initiative. Your methods are truly admirable."
Tyrion grinned: "But."
Upon hearing this, Varys's eyes widened slightly, then he smiled faintly.
He continued, "Queen Cersei can temporarily tolerate you for the upcoming great battle, but not Count Glynn. To her... whether she realizes that Count Glynn is a sharp sword in her hand or not, he is a vassal belonging solely to her, so this matter does not allow for your interference."
Tyrion shrugged, saying, "Haha, Lioness roars. This is my sister Cersei's private matter, and your analysis is very apt."
Varys smiled: "To borrow Ser Jaime's words, loyalty fears no test. I believe that once Count Glynn returns to King's Landing, Queen Cersei will no longer doubt his loyalty."
Tyrion chuckled, "I have more faith in Glynn's skill at serving my sister."
Varys's eyes flickered: "Prime Minister Tyrion, I hear she was a bit hot-tempered today. Perhaps you could proactively help Queen Cersei."
Tyrion's eyes trembled slightly, and he grinned; Varys's smile deepened, his eyes profound.
...
...
Rocky Coast in the western North, the warship "Gulp."
The grizzled old warrior said, "Today is a day of victory, yet there is no smile on your face. The living should rejoice, for the dead cannot, boy."
After speaking, the old warrior forced a smile to demonstrate.
The old warrior's name was Dagon. His smile, though ugly, brought back countless memories for Theon... In his childhood, this smile accompanied him whenever he urged his pony over moss-covered low walls, whenever he threw an axe and hit a standing target, whenever he blocked Dagon's attacks, whenever he shot a seagull's wing, whenever he steered the longship through tangled reefs with the tiller, this smile was always there... Dagon gave him more smiles than his father or Eddard Stark.
Theon said irritably, "By right, my sister's task should have been given to me. I want to talk to you, Uncle Dagon."
Dagon was not Theon's biological uncle; he was just one of his father's many subordinates. It was said that he had a slight Greyjoy bloodline four or five generations ago, a chance result of an accidental liaison... Despite this, Theon still always called him uncle.
...
Dagon looked troubled and advised, "The Young Wolf of Stark is your friend, Theon. Stark kept you for ten years."
Theon stared at the old warrior: "Uncle Dagon, I am not a Stark; I am a Greyjoy. I am the heir to the King of the Iron Islands. If I don't achieve impressive results to prove myself to the Ironborn, how can I earn their trust as a prince?"
Dagon continued to persuade, "Our mission is just to raid the Rocky Coast! You are still young; you will have plenty of opportunities for war in the future."
Theon smiled cunningly, "Achieving the goal of raiding and harassing is enough. What's the difference who carries it out? You've lost interest in this banditry, haven't you, Uncle Dagon?"
Dagon seemed tempted, remained silent for a moment, then said, "What do you plan to do?"
Theon's lips curled up, and he said, "If my sister can take a castle, then so can I."
Dagon raised his horn cup, took a gulp of wine, and said, "Theon, Asha has four or five times our number of men."
Theon lifted his chin and said, "Asha is just a woman after all, and I have four times her wit and five times her courage."
Asha is no ordinary woman... Dagon thought this to himself but did not say it aloud. The old warrior always felt that the Ironborn wanted a king, not a queen.
He hesitated for a moment and said, "Your father's side..."
Before Dagon could finish, Theon interrupted, "My father will thank me when I present an entire kingdom to him!"
He added with pride, "The actions I plan will be sung by bards for a thousand years!"
Dagon's cloudy eyes gradually brightened. His hair might be white, his teeth might be loose, but his desire for glory had not diminished in the slightest.
Dagon drank the rest of the wine in his cup in one gulp, then threw away the horn cup and said, "What role will I play in your plan?"
"To fill the enemy's hearts with fear, only your name can accomplish it..."
Theon leaned forward and continued, "I want you to draw away Winterfell's defenders, Dagon!"
...
...
Three days later, Winterfell.
"Maester Luwin, last night I dreamed of that raven again, the one with three eyes. It flew into my bedroom and wanted me to go with it."
Maester Luwin threw a log into the fireplace and said, "Little Bran, remember my words, refuse it."
Bran Stark inherited the Tully appearance from his mother; he had chestnut hair and blue eyes. After falling from the watchtower (Chapter 149), although he survived, he lost the ability to walk and thereafter needed servants to carry him for daily activities.
Hearing Maester Luwin's advice, nine-year-old Bran just nodded and said nothing.
Maester Luwin sighed, "Bran, you should know that dreams have no meaning."
Bran's voice held a hint of stubbornness: "I heard that the Children of the Forest know about dreams."
Maester Luwin shook his head slightly and replied, "Little Bran, the Children of the Forest themselves only exist in dreams; they have long since disappeared."
"What is this?" Rickon's childish voice suddenly came.
In Maester Luwin's study, books were piled on chairs and tables almost taller than him, rows of bottles and jars were displayed on shelves by the wall, furniture was covered with burnt-down candles and dried wax drips, astrological charts hung on the walls, scattered maps lay on straw mats, and papers, quill pens, and ink bottles were everywhere.
Rickon Stark, four years old this year, was Duke Eddard's youngest son. He was now staring with great curiosity at a black arrowhead he had managed to dig out.
Bran looked at the shining arrowhead in his brother's hand: "It's glass... dragonglass?"
Maester Luwin first corrected him: "Its scientific name is obsidian; the fire of the gods forged this substance deep within the earth's core."
He continued, "Thousands of years ago, because the Children of the Forest did not understand metalworking, they used obsidian for hunting. Their arrows and blades were all made of obsidian."
He then warned Rickon, "The arrowhead is very sharp, so don't cut yourself."
Bran said, "Maester Luwin, tell me about the Children of the Forest."
Maester Luwin's tone was kind: "Little Bran, what aspect do you want to know about?"
Bran put his arm around Rickon, who had leaned over to "listen to the story," and said, "I want to know about every aspect."
Maester Luwin tugged at his maester's chain and slowly said, "The Children of the Forest were a race that lived in the Dawn Age, the world's first rulers, long before kings and kingdoms existed. At that time, there were no castles, no villages, and no markets.
There were no humans then; only the Children of the Forest lived on this land we call the Seven Kingdoms. No one knows how long they ruled here or where they came from."
Throwing another log into the fireplace, he continued, "The Children of the Forest were a dark-skinned and beautiful people. They were small in stature; even adults were about the height of our children.
They lived deep in forests, caves, swamp islands, and secret tree towns. Though small, the Children of the Forest were quick and graceful, and both men and women hunted with bows made of weirwood and nets. They worshipped ancient gods of the forest, streams, and rocks, whose names were secret. Their wise men were called greenseers, who carved strange faces into weirwood trees to protect the forest."
"About twelve thousand years ago, the First Men appeared. They rode horses, carried bronze swords and large leather shields, and crossed the sea from the east via the Arm of Dorne, which was not yet broken then.
When the First Men built houses and farms, they cut down the faced trees for firewood, which horrified the Children of the Forest, and they immediately went to war with the First Men.
The First Men were taller and stronger, and wood, stone, and obsidian could not compare to bronze, so the Children of the Forest suffered heavy casualties.
Ancient songs tell of greenseers using powerful magic to raise the sea level, sweeping across the land and shattering the Arm of Dorne, but it was too late.
The war continued until the blood of the First Men and the Children of the Forest stained the earth. The chieftains and heroes of the First Men, and the greenseers and wood dancers of the Children of the Forest, came to the Isle of Faces in God's Eye Lake to make a pact."
Bran asked, "A pact? What kind of pact?"
Maester Luwin nodded and said, "The pact stipulated that the First Men would own the coasts, plains, grasslands, mountains, and swamps, but the vast forests would forever belong to the Children of the Forest, and no weirwood tree was to be cut down anywhere in the kingdom."
"The signing of the pact ended the Dawn Age and began the Age of Heroes, as well as four thousand years of friendship between the First Men and the Children of the Forest. Later, the First Men even abandoned the faith they had brought from the east and instead worshipped the mysterious gods of the Children of the Forest."
Bran asked, puzzled, "According to the pact, the Children of the Forest still live in the forests, so why do you say they disappeared?"
Maester Luwin was very patient: "As long as the kingdom of the First Men endured, the pact remained in effect. However, about a thousand years ago, tall, fair-haired Andals, carrying weapons forged from steel and with the seven-pointed star symbolizing their new gods painted on their chests, crossed the Narrow Sea and came to kill."
Knock, knock, knock, an urgent knocking sounded at the door.
"Maester Luwin, Benfred Tallhart of Torrhen's Square (located by a large lake southwest of Winterfell) is requesting aid. They have been attacked by pirates, and the pirate leader is named Dagon."
"Dagon Cleftjaw of the Iron Islands?!"
...
The next morning, Ser Rodrik Cassel, a Stark bannerman, led eight hundred soldiers gathered from Winterfell and nearby estates on an urgent expedition, leaving only a symbolic guard at Winterfell.
...
Two mornings later, Theon, with a few dozen Ironborn, appeared silently beneath a section of Winterfell's walls. A triumphant smile played on his lips.
The few dozen Ironborn, led by Theon, swam across Winterfell's moat without alerting the guards on duty and appeared here.
Theon first stretched his neck and observed quietly for a moment, then raised his hand to signal.
Several lean Ironborn opened their bags and pulled out grappling hooks and ropes. They secured the ropes, took a few running steps, and leaped, embedding the grappling hooks deeply into the cracks of the city wall. Repeating this process, the Ironborn climbed the wall one by one.
It wasn't long before ropes were thrown down one by one. Theon waved his hand, and the remaining Ironborn all climbed the wall using the ropes.
-------------------------------
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