Eagle of the Valley of Ice and Fire

Chapter 187 The conflict of walking alone

"You're always desecrating fine steel with these wildfire tricks"

Thoros stroked the steel sword that Tob Mott, the old blacksmith of King's Landing, gave him before leaving. The fine wrinkles on it felt very comfortable to the touch.

The old blacksmith's words were like the breeze passing by his ears, lingering in Soros's ears from time to time.

"You are the worst monk in the world, damn it!" Tob Mott cursed and handed the steel sword specially made for him into his hand in the shabby blacksmith shop in King's Landing. "Hold it tight. Soros, you drunkard and the most incoherent liar!"

Soros remembered that without saying a word, he whistled and threw the bag containing double the price on the wooden table of the blacksmith shop, making a clanging sound. He glanced at the old blacksmith's apprentice at the end of the shop. At that time, he was playing with a helmet as strong as a bull's head, showing himself a silly smile.

Soros wrapped the faded robe tightly around him, slightly tightened the protective gear tied to his arms, took a deep breath, and pulled his thoughts back from his memories.

He was not in King's Landing, where the smell of smoke was rising. He was in the Riverlands, on the King's Road.

A group of ragged people gathered at the far corner of the slope. Soros looked over and saw that many people were staring at him.

The monk-like people in the crowd focused on the fine work in their hands, tying strings to tie up the wooden basins for carrying water, using wooden sticks to stir the pulp in the bowls, and the needlework of weaving and sewing clothes seemed to be no problem for this group of monks.

However, Soros sensed something ominous among this group of people. He led the donkey behind him and carefully prepared to go around the slope, remaining silent.

He walked around the slope and breathed a sigh of relief.

The words that made his spine tingle came immediately after, "Hey, red-robed monk, stop!"

Soros turned around and glanced at the man who told him to stop.

Skinny and skinny, this man seemed to have only bones left in his body, with a simple layer of flesh hanging on top.

Soros looked at him, but the other person's eyes were extremely clear and firm, like a hungry rhinoceros about to pounce, staring at his prey with his tongue hanging out.

"What are you doing?" Thoros held the sword.

"Dirty heretic!" The man was not afraid of Thoros' sword, and his eyes remained vicious.

"Oh~" Thoros frowned slightly, "I don't think R'hllor asked you to dedicate your asshole to him."

The other party suddenly stood up, and immediately several people stood up with him.

"Is this how your Red God teaches you, monk?" the nun standing next to the man asked.

"I don't know how R'hllor taught me," Thoros said, looking at the defenseless appearance of all of them, and his confidence grew slightly in his heart, "He must be the same as the way Heavenly Father and Mother Mother taught you. I think we are no different. "

"You!" The skinny man took a step forward. In Thoros's eyes, it was as if the "warriors" of the Seven Gods had given him courage. He seemed not to have seen the delicate long sword that Thoros was holding tightly.

Are you the stupid ass of the Seven Gods? Thoros drew out his long sword, and the cold light of the sword was slightly exposed, shining on the face of the believer.

This did not affect the few people standing on the opposite side at all, but they approached Soros without any scruples.

Damn it, you can still see such fanatics in Westeros. Thoros instinctively took a step back. He was a monk who was afraid of even the fanatics of the Red God, let alone other sects.

But he knew that he could not retreat at this time. Thoros stood up, held the sword upright in front of him, held the hilt of the sword tightly with both hands, and stared coldly.

If his head was still clear, Soros still remembered that he still had a small bottle of wildfire in his bag.

By then, it would be no problem to wield the flaming sword casually. He once again remembered how he had repelled those damn Ironborn riders in Pike City during the Greyjoy Rebellion War. Thinking of this, Thoros felt confident again. After a while, he yelled loudly: "You are all made of flesh and blood, and the Seven Gods have no time to carve iron into your bodies!" It wasn't that he didn't have the confidence to kill all these people who were in the way, Thoros just felt sorry for him in his heart. It's a bit unbearable to kill innocent people. Among the people who stood up were not only women, but also children. Damn it!

The believers were still approaching, and more and more people even stood up, trying to surround him.

But the monk who seemed to be their leader just sat quietly on the spot, tinkering with his pot of jam.

Soros stretched out his left hand and reached into the bag.

When he touched the familiar texture of the clay pot, he breathed a sigh of relief, "The long night is dangerous, the true god is your companion, the night lamp is always bright, and the fire-tempered sword" he muttered as usual, holding the glass bottle tightly in his left hand, slowly Pull out slowly.

"Fire-tempered sword, fire-tempered sword, fire-tempered." A burning heat hit his face. Thoros paused for a moment and looked at the long sword filled with flames in shock. The bottle was originally used for The wildfire bottle used in the flaming sword trick is still intact in his left hand and has not been taken out yet.

The surrounding believers retreated one after another, their eyes full of fear, and they looked at the burning flaming sword at a loss.

Thoros understood. He put back the wildfire bottle and held the sword tightly with both hands. "See if your Seven Gods can put a piece of real iron in your body that is invulnerable and not afraid of fire." He waved the sword slightly, and a ball of flames appeared. Floating in the air, the believers of the Seven Gods retreated one after another, not daring to be careless at all.

"Let our foreign friends go."

The monk stopped making jam, stood up, and stood behind the believer with a slightly gloomy expression.

He walked to the front of the crowd and bowed slightly, "I'm sorry for my poor education. I'm rude."

The monk raised his eyes and looked at the burning flaming sword, "Maybe you should put out the fire?"

Thoros looked at the burning flaming sword in his hand with some embarrassment. He waved it slightly, and the flame that was still flourishing before was immediately extinguished.

He exhaled and looked at the seemingly gentle monk in front of him with a smile. Soros knew clearly, but he still smiled cooperatively.

"I just want to leave and don't want to hinder you." Soros glanced at the unkind-looking believers around him and said, "Pray."

He backed away slowly, still not putting the long sword back into the hilt.

"The Riverlands are still in chaos. If you don't mind, you can join us. Maybe our journey will be the same, if you go to Harrenhal," the monk pointed to the direction Thoros was heading and said with a smile, "That's the lucky land for your Red God. The red-robed messengers of Volantis are getting along well with Attis Arryn."

"Despicable traitor, despicable Arryn" whispered the scrawny believer.

Soros heard everything clearly, and he had always been very confident in his ears.

"That's it," Thoros looked like he was considering it, but the topic changed immediately, "Of course not, haha, I don't want to be with the followers of the Seven Gods who want to sacrifice their butts to R'hllor."

He made a face and waved gently in farewell.

Thoros is indeed going to Harrenhal. The news that Duke Arryn is going to hold a tourney has spread throughout the seven countries. As a frequent visitor to the tourney, how could he not join in the fun?

Moreover, believers in the Red God can indeed be protected under Attis. Needless to say, the red-robed female Melisandre and the red-robed monk Magiro, the red-robed monk and missionary he knows can also easily travel across the river. The valley between the lands was newly occupied.

This was considered a good treatment during the war years.

The monk looked at Thoros who was gradually moving away and said, "The traitors and evil spirits have gathered in that cursed city. The blessings of the Seven Gods are gradually being driven away. We need to go over and inform the deceived knights of the truth and the oracle. And the lords, and even the subjects who are highly valued by the Seven Gods."

The crowd slowly stood up and followed behind the monks. The chants lingered in the middle of the crowd, loud and clear.

　Double updates should be resumed tomorrow

　　

　

(End of this chapter)