Small Council The air is heavy.
Outside the high window, the noise of King's Landing merged into a continuous low roar, like a captive giant beast neighing.
Jon. Arryn sat in the seat of Hand of the King, feeling like he had aged ten years.
His eye sockets were sunken and bloodshot, and his gray hair was messy and stuck to his sweaty forehead.
The parchment report on the table was deeply wrinkled by his hand, which was trembling uncontrollably.
Although he did not like Jonos. Slint, he had previously found two witnesses who were willing to identify his crimes.
However, the two men were found to have been killed before they went to court to identify him, and they failed to successfully dismiss him.
If Robert hadn't insisted on it, he would have dismissed Jonos Slint even if there was no evidence.
Jon. Arryn spoke with a hoarse voice, "Jonos. Slinte."
"Really dead?"
Marin Tran stood at the door, tall and tall, but his face was as pale as his Kingsguard white cloak.
"Yes, Lord Hand."
"He and several of his officers were thrown from the tower of the barracks by the mob.
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"Corpse.
. The body was planted on the flagpole outside the Gold Cloaks military camp."
Jon. Arryn Close your eyes, as if you can see the bloody scene.
City Watch's commander, the king's official, was stuck up like a rag for public display.
Jon. Arryn opened his eyes suddenly and punched the heavy oak table.
"Rebellion!"
"This is outright rebellion!"
His roar echoed in the room, causing the candlelight to flicker.
"I'm going to hang them all! Everybody involved! Everybody!"
He turned to Master of Coin.
"Petyr!"
"Gold Cloaks How many people can use it!"
Petyr. Baelish sat quietly on the chair, with no emotion in his gray-green eyes.
He tapped his fingertips lightly on the table, making regular soft sounds.
"Lord Hand, I'm afraid there are none left."
His voice was calm, as if he was stating an insignificant business matter.
"Most of the soldiers abandoned their weapons and fled home when the riots began."
"The rest were either killed or joined the mob."
"And if you were to hang everyone involved, you'd probably have to prepare half a million ropes."
"King's Landing, except Red Keep and the land under our feet, no longer belongs to the king."
Jon. Arryn was breathing heavily, and his chest was rising and falling violently.
He felt like a drowning man, surrounded by cold water and unable to see anything to hold on to.
This is not the Eyrie, not Vale, King's Landing is like a fog in the dark night, making him confused and unable to see the way forward.
At this moment, Pycelle Grand Maester stood up tremblingly, dragging his heavy bachelor's necklace.
His long white beard almost reached his waist.
"Lord Hand."
His voice was weak, but it silenced everyone.
"The church sent someone to deliver the news."
Jon. Arryn turned his eyes to him, as if he wanted to eat someone.
"What tricks are they trying to play?"
Pycelle Grand Maester pulled out a roll of parchment from his wide sleeves and handed it over with both hands.
"The church says...
... I am deeply saddened by the chaos in the city."
"To assist the royal family in restoring order and protect devout believers from harm."
"He... he asked His Majesty to allow the Church to rearm."
There was deathly silence in the conference room.
"Armed!?"
Jon. Arryn repeated the word in a terrifyingly low voice.
Pycelle shrank his neck. "Yes, sir."
"Restore Sons of the Warrior and Poor Fellows.
,"The city will stabilize..
"Bang!"
Jon. Arryn overturned the ink bottle in front of him.
Black ink splashed on the table, spreading quickly like an ugly scar.
"Never!"
His roar almost broke the roof.
"Tell the Church! As long as I live! The Church will never pick up a sword!"
"Who do they think I am?"
"Let them read history! Pycelle!"
Pycelle Grand Maester was so frightened that he backed away, almost tripping over his own robe, and sat down on the chair.
"I... I'm just sending a message, Hand of the King."
Jon. Arryn pointed at the door. "Then go and tell them what I said!"
"Don't change a word!"
He turned to Petyr. Baelish.
"Send my order immediately! Call all the vassals of Crownlands! Let them bring all their troops and come to King's Landing immediately!"
"I want to clean this city from the inside out!"
Petyr. Baelish's mouth curved slightly, then disappeared quickly.
He cleared his throat. "Lord Hand, with all due respect."
"I'm afraid no lord will respond to your call."
"In fact, I've already sent a raven there."
He paused, with a hint of sadness in his voice.
"No one wants to be the one who stands out, sir."
"Leading the army to massacre tens of thousands of devout believers and attack the church."
"Their names will be cursed by the gods."
"Their descendants will bear the curse of godlessness."
Jon. Arryn slumped back on the chair and put his hands into his gray hair.
He felt powerless as never before.
Petyr. Baelish's voice sounded again, like a candlelight in the darkness, with a seductive warmth.
"However, you don't have to worry too much."
"You asked me to raise an army earlier, and I have already done so."
"I have hired two mercenary groups of two thousand people from Myr and Tyrosh."
"They are at sea and will arrive in ten days at most."
Jon. Arryn raised his head, a trace of anger flashing in his eyes.
"Mercenary!!?"
Petyr. Baelish smiled, "Yes."
"A group of pagans who do not believe in Seven."
"They don't feel any psychological burden when they kill people, and they don't care about God's curse."
"We just need to hold Red Keep, stabilize the situation, and wait for them to arrive."
Jon. Arryn was silent.
The thought of letting Free Cities's mercenaries massacre his own people in King's Landing made him feel sick.
But he had no other choice.
He looked at Varys, who had been silent all this time. "Wallis."
"What's the news from you?"
Varys's fat body leaned forward slightly from the chair, and he wiped his forehead with a square silk handkerchief.
"My Little Birds is singing a disturbing song, Lord Hand."
His voice was soft and soft, like a whisper between lovers.
"Riverlands, there seems to be something strange."
Jon. Arryn's heart sank suddenly. What he was most worried about at the moment was Riverlands.
"East Riverlands's Lords... their emissaries come and go very frequently."
"It appears that the military is being mobilized."
Varys paused for a moment, as if he was considering his words.
"Moreover, my Little Birds also told me...House Lychester summoned the lords of House Mallister and House Deddings a few days ago."
"Now, those two poor children are still detained in Rushmarsh."
This news hit Jon. Arryn's tired nerves hard.
Detain the lord and mobilize the army.
The church's advocacy, coupled with the mob in King's Landing who shouted "Sword of the Seven Suleiman".
Everything is connected in series.
Jon. Arryn gritted his teeth. "That boy."
"What does he want to do? Does he really want to rebel?"
Anger surged into his head again, burning his eyes red.
He stood up suddenly and pointed at Pycelle Grand Maester.
"Write again! Use the raven! Warn him!"
"Tell him that if he dares to do anything evil, I will personally lead the army and chop off his head!"
Pycelle Grand Maester looked embarrassed and said tremblingly.
"But, Lord Hand, we've already sent seven stern letters.
","Continuously writing letters with terrible wording will only make the other party make misjudgments out of fear.
"If he really deliberately rebelled, it would not work at all.
Jon. Arryn was pacing back and forth in the room like an enraged lion.
He stopped, put his hands on the table, leaned forward, and stared at the ink-stained area on the table.
"Then send another one!"
"Send another raven!"
He roared with all his strength.
"Also! Tell the church that I will negotiate with them at Great Sept of Baelor."
The location of the negotiation is set at Great Sept of Baelor.
This is a signal, a signal that Jon. Arryn thinks is full of good intentions.
The team of Hand of the King set off from Red Keep, with an orderly queue and flags flying.
The eagle soars on the sky blue flag, that is the flag of House Arryn.
Followed closely by House Baratheon, Crowned Stag, gold base Black Stag, majestic.
The band played a solemn march, and the drums beat every uneasy heart in King's Landing.
The streets were lined with people.
They were silent, their eyes complex.
Public negotiations between the royal family and the church have not happened for too long.
The news spread throughout Crownlands like the wind, and countless people flocked to King's Landing from the countryside and small towns just to witness this moment with their own eyes.
They wanted to see if the high-ranking nobles still remembered the gods and the people. The weather was amazingly good and the sun was dazzling.
The square in front of the church was extremely ornately decorated, with ribbons and flags fluttering in the wind.
Jon. Arryn was riding on the horse, with his back straightened and a smug look on his face.
He looked at the sea of people in front of him and felt a sense of faith in his heart.
He is here to unite the people and extinguish this damn flame.
The meeting was held in the chapel of the church.
Under the huge dome, light passes through the stained glass, casting colorful light and shadow.
The representatives of the monks are arranged on the benches on the right side.
Representatives of the nobility sit on the left side.
Thousands of civilian representatives were crowded at the back of the hall, facing the podium where Hand of the King was about to deliver a speech.
The nobles were the first to enter.
They were dressed in gorgeous silks, sparkling jewelry, and held their chins high.
Immediately, unabashed boos erupted from the crowd, like a cold wind sweeping through the hall.
The nobles looked ugly, but they could only quicken their pace and sit down in their seats.
Later, representatives of the monks entered the venue.
They wore simple cloth robes and looked solemn.
Thunderous applause and cheers instantly erupted in the hall.
People stood up and paid tribute to these servants of God who spoke for them.
When everyone was seated, the auditorium became quiet.
Jon. Arryn walked in from the side door surrounded by a group of followers.
He walked to the podium and scanned the audience.
He noticed that none of the civilians standing at the rear took off their hats, let alone kneeled down.
This was unimaginable in the past.
His brows wrinkled slightly, but there was no attack.
The entire synagogue was so silent that you could hear a pin drop.
All eyes were focused on him, waiting for his opening speech.
People want to know the answer.
Is this meeting another charity from above, or am I willing to bend down and listen to their painful compromises?
Jon. Arryn cleared his throat, his voice booming.
"The people of King's Landing!"
"You have betrayed your oath to the king! You are in flagrant rebellion!"
His words were like a stone smashed into the calm lake.
There were boos immediately among the civilian representatives.
A voice shouted sharply from behind the crowd.
"What about your Majesty Aerys?"
Jon. Arryn's face turned red instantly.
He glared angrily in the direction from which the sound came, but couldn't find the person speaking.
He suppressed his anger and continued to speak in a tone that he thought was calm, but sounded domineering to civilian ears.
"In order to restore order! The kingdom has decided to take some necessary measures!"
"All illegal gatherings will be banned! All instigators will be arrested!"
Every measure he announced was like a heavy punch, hitting people hard.
These are the things that monks and commoners hate most.
The dissatisfaction reached its peak, and the entire synagogue was like a volcano about to erupt.
At this moment, a man covered in blood rushed in from the door.
He screamed in horror, "Gold Cloaks! It's Gold Cloaks outside the cathedral!"
"They have us surrounded!"
"They're going to kill us all!"
The crowd exploded instantly, and the roaring roar almost overturned the dome of the church.
Jon. Arryn looked pale.
He has not deployed an army! Not a single soldier!
What's going on?
He opened his mouth and wanted to explain, but found that his voice was completely drowned by the angry sound.
Everyone was blinded by anger, and no one would listen to his explanation.
The nobles stood up in panic.
Civilian representatives rushed to the front, waving their fists.
The noise became louder and louder, and some people were extremely angry and loudly advocated.
"Go to the meeting under the King's window!"
"Let the tyrant see his people with his own eyes!"
Yangsi monk stood up from his seat.
He walked onto the podium and stood in front of Jon. Arryn, shining like a sword.
"Go tell your master, Jon. Arryn!"
His voice was not loud, but it spread clearly throughout the entire synagogue.
"We are commanded by the gods! We are commanded by the people!"
"Kill us all with your swords! See if the gods will send down fire from heaven and burn your Red Keep!"
In the chaos, the guards of Hand of the King surrounded him and protected him as he evacuated.
Jon. Arryn failed completely.
When his team walked out of the temple in embarrassment, they were greeted by a sky full of filth.
People threw prepared excrement, mud, and garbage at Hand of the King and his gorgeous royal team.
Some angry people even tried to attack the guard's defense line and kill him with their own hands.
The whole King's Landing echoes a few terrible words.
"Aerys Long live the King!"
"Long live Prince Rhaegar!"
"Usurper killed our real king!"
"Long live King Rhaegar!"
Immediately afterwards, an even more terrifying news began to spread like a plague.
Usurper summoned mercenaries from Free Cities.
Those pagans who do not believe in Seven are about to cross Narrow Sea to massacre the people of King's Landing.
The news spread and the whole city was shaken.
Angry crowds gathered everywhere.
More than 100,000 people spontaneously flocked to Rhaenys's Hill, and the black crowd flooded the streets and the square.
They were extremely indignant when they heard the news and were ready to take action, but they didn't know how to proceed.
Yangsi monk stood on the high platform built for him, overlooking the endless sea of people below.
He raised his hands and shouted at the top of his lungs.
"Seven's people! There can be no further delay!"
"The royal family is going to massacre us!"
There was despair and madness in his voice.
"In a few days! Those Free Cities mercenaries will come from the other side of the sea!"
"They will slaughter us like pigs and sheep! They will rape our wives and daughters! They will steal everything from us!"
"We have only one way to survive!"
He pulled out the long sword hidden under the monk's robe and pointed it straight at the sky.
"Then take up arms! Tyrant of destruction!"
The crowd supported him with roars of cheers.
"The tyrant of destruction!"
"Take up arms!"
"The tyrant of destruction!"