Chapter 110: Chapter 110
Chapter 110 Black News
Unlike the scorching sun in the south, summer in the north was still howling with cold winds.
Here, it was difficult for delicate flowers to survive, and only the most tenacious vegetation such as sturdy oaks, old iron trees, and hard feather grasses can adapt to this icy and snowy climate.
Also unacceptable, but there was also the different faith in the south.
Different from the seven gods who have names and surnames and have kind faces, people in the northern region believe in those ancient gods who have neither name nor appearance. The earliest aborigines in this continent - the ancient faith of the children of the forest.
Therefore, they are also called "Old God".
The old gods had no preaching priests, no pious prayers, no carols of praise, and even no unified worship rituals. Some of them were just weirwood trees carved with human faces.
People in the north believe that the weirwood is the incarnation of the gods. They can look at the world through the faces on the weirwood, listen to prayers, and shelter believers.
It is said that the oldest weirwood in the northern region is in the godswood forest in Winterfell, and it has experienced tens of thousands of years.
Eddard Stark, Warden of the North, Lord of Winterfell, knelt before this weirwood, praying silently.
This is the routine he does every day.
The huge canopy almost covered the entire courtyard, the deep red leaves were like thousands of bloody hands, and a melancholy and deep face was carved on the trunk .
Red tears flowed from its eyes—the sap of the weirwood, as if lamenting the misery of the world and the uncertainties of fate.
The sound of footsteps behind him notified Duke Eddard. He turned around and found that his wife Catelyn Tully was walking.
"What's the matter, Catelyn?" He noticed his wife's face was very bad.
Catelyn came to her husband stepping on the thick decay leaves that had accumulated for thousands of years, and took out a letter:
"Ned, the raven has brought bad news."
"Black wings, bring black news." The Duke sighed in a low voice, and at the same time took the letter from his wife and opened it.
Catelyn took her husband's hand, and soon she felt his grief.
She knew that her husband had been an adopted by Lord Arryn when he was young, and that the then childless Lord Jon Arryn had treated him and his other adopted son, Robert Baratheon, as if they were his own sons.
When the "Mad King" Aerys Targaryen II asked Duke Jon to hand over his two adopted sons, the Duke of Vale, who valued honour above all else, would rather rebel than betray the people he swore to protect. .
"How could it be?" Duke Eddard clutched the letter tightly, "Jon...how did he die suddenly?"
Catelyn hesitated, and finally took out another letter: "This is written by my sister Lysa. She said... Prince Oberyn poisoned her husband."
Duke Eddard quickly took the letter, and after a quick scan, his body trembled even more.
Catelyn couldn't help reminding: "Ned , Lysa has been hit too hard, and her mind is not stable, so she may not be telling the truth."
Duke Eddard suddenly got up, and pulled out his giant sword 'ICE' .
This two-handed giant sword made of Valyrian steel has been passed down by the Stark family for more than four hundred years, but it is still as sharp as ever.
"I want to find out the truth!" Duke Eddard clenched his sword tightly, his voice as cold as iron.
Caitlin opened her mouth, but said nothing after all.
Duke Eddard looked directly at the weeping eyes on the weirwood, remained silent for a long time, and finally issued a question full of sadness and resentment:
"The gods are not fair!"
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"The gods should die!"
In the meeting hall of King's Landing Red Castle, an angry roar echoed,
"And you, all of you!"
King Robert Baratheon, who had not attended the imperial meeting for many years, unexpectedly appeared in the cabinet today.
In front of his council members .
However, his attitude was extremely bad.
"I could die!" roared Robert, banging his head on the table. "But how could Jon Arryn die! How could he just die like this!"
The ruler of the Seven Kingdoms had a stomach as big as his voice. A beard as thick as black wire covered his fat double chin, and thick dark circles and sagging skin were signs of excessive drinking. You must know that only fifteen years ago, this king was still handsome and brave knight when he was on the battlefield.
When he was wearing armor, a huge helmet with antlers, and holding an iron spiked hammer, he was a veritable invincible god of war.
Although the size and bravery of the past are no longer there, the momentum is still there.
Under the roar, all the council members were silent.
"Varys!"
"Your Majesty." Intelligence Chief "The spider" responded quickly, shaking his body fat.
"Tell me, did the 'Red Viper' kill Jon?"
"Your Majesty..." Varys said with a bitter face, "I don't know..."
"Trash! Don't you know everything? Trash! all rubbish!" Robert growled again, spraying a spatter of spittle into Varys' face, but he didn't dare to wipe it.
After scolding, Robert panted heavily, and it took him a while to regain his composure, and ordered:
"Let the 'Red Viper' come to King's Landing immediately, and I will personally preside over his trial!"
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"And the nobles who were present at that time, let them all come to witness!"
"Yes."
Afterwards, the discussion hall fell silent again, save for Robert's heavy breathing.
Stannis Baratheon, Duke of Dragonstone, finally broke the silence:
"Your Majesty, the most urgent task is to appoint a new hand of the king."
Robert's gaze swept slowly across the faces of the crowd: "You have any opinions?"
After another brief silence, the Maester Pycelle took the lead and said:
"Your Majesty, I think Duke Tywin Lannister is the most qualified, after all, he has been the Hand of the King for twenty years. Has a wealth of experience..."
"What experience?" Robert interrupted coldly, "The experience of making a 'mad king'?"
Pycelle defended in a low voice: "Your Majesty, you cannot count the fault of Aerys II On Lord Tywin's head..."
Under Robert's icy gaze, Pycelle's voice became smaller and smaller, and finally he lowered his head and dared not speak any more.
Just when the atmosphere in the meeting hall was stagnant again, a crisp voice suddenly sounded at the door:
"Your Majesty, why can't my father be the Hand of the King?"
When everyone turned their heads, they saw Queen Cersei walking in slowly.
She has golden curly hair and emerald green eyes typical of the Lannister family. Although she has given birth to three children, she is still slender and graceful. The "Light of the West" woman has just turned thirty, and is at the most attractive age in her life. The gods also love her very much, and there were not many traces of time left on that beautiful face.
But even so, she still couldn't get her husband's favor.
"Woman." Robert snapped angrily, "Is the Imperial Council the place you should be?" "
"Your Majesty, I just happened to pass by and heard you discussing..."
"Then keep passing."
"Your Majesty... ..."
"Damn it! Which word of what I just said didn't you understand?" Robert's voice became louder again,
"Get out!"
Cersei trembled slightly, her eyes lingering on her husband's face for a moment, before finally holding her skirt and self-esteem, strode away.
"Go on," said Robert.
Several members exchanged glances, and in the end Petyr Baelish, the master of coins, said,
"Your Majesty, the Hand of the King manages the country on behalf of the King, so it should be a person he trust the most."
It seems that It was nonsense, but Robert was lost in thought.
After a while, the king got up and said,
"Get ready, I'm going to Winterfell."
[END]
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