Chapter 292 Parade

In King's Landing, the funeral was held as scheduled.

The little devil Tyrion Lannister installed the special saddle, and his squire Podrick helped him onto the horse. The red cloak symbolizing Lannister was wrapped around his body, and it was blocked forward, covering his right arm and right chest. The cloak was inlaid with gold threads, extending from the shoulders to the tail.

"Okay, Pod," Tyrion took a deep breath, "Don't be nervous, Pod, we should run to the front."

Podrick walked to the back and rode his big horse, "I'm not nervous, sir." He loosened the reins slightly, lightly squeezed the horse's belly, and followed behind Tyrion.

There were suddenly more Baratheon knights, and Tyrion noticed that many of them were wearing blue robes brought by Artis, but they were hanging the stag banners galloping on the battlefield.

The silent sisters danced the pale mare dance around the two slowly moving coffins under the onlookers of the civilians on both sides of the streets. Lannister's golden lion and red flag and Baratheon's crowned stag were driving side by side on both sides of the coffin.

The Prime Minister's carriage was in the middle of the team, and countless blue robes were also there. The crescent falcon blue and white flag of the Eyrie was torn in the wind, like falcons fighting for food.

The civilians didn't speak at first, but just stretched their necks to look there. Pairs of eyes and faces in the gaps of the crowd, in front of the windows of the slightly higher brick houses, and behind the small dragon head stone pillars that appeared from time to time on both sides of the passage from the Great Sept of Baelor to the Lion Gate, all seemed to be attracted by the two coffins and lost their souls.

"Who is the queen and who is the old lion?" someone in the crowd asked.

Tyrion's face was a little solemn. He moved his eyes away and stopped looking at the coffin. Instead, he coughed slightly and concentrated on riding.

"Dwarf!" Someone shouted from time to time.

"Shut up!" Podrick raised his sword to scare the person who spoke.

The gold-cloaked man watched coldly, and Uncle Kevan was also indifferent. Tyrion bit his lip. This was something he had to go through. Even if the Stranger whispered in his ear, he had to endure it.

"A headless lion, a lion with milk!"

The vulgar words continued, and Podrick's angry panting behind him became more and more obvious.

"Calm down, Pod," Tyrion smiled and pulled the reins back hard. The horse raised its front legs, scaring the civilians who were close to him to retreat one after another. "Keep smiling all the time. These people are all pent up in the war."

At this time, the sound of stirrups clanging and the roar of the valley accent came from behind.

"Everyone retreat to the house! Don't come out!" Tyrion looked back and saw the blue-cloaked man riding his horse through the gaps between the funeral procession and the streets, whipping the ground in vain, complaining, but the blue-cloaked man's roar was obviously louder, covering up the many noisy voices.

Tyrion then noticed that Robar Royce was holding a sword, his arm around his helmet, and he nodded slightly to him.

So he looked at Attis's carriage again. The curtains covered the carriage tightly, but Tyrion knew that this was the order of the Prime Minister. Maybe it was not for himself. He turned his head and looked at his father's coffin. Perhaps it was a mutual sympathy between the king's hands?

The distance from the Great Sept of Baelor to the Lion's Gate was very short. The carriage seemed to be stuck in a quagmire when it entered. The houses and pavilions were scattered with humus floating objects. The crowds of people became bubbling water stains from time to time. The streets were very narrow, and the huge team was very difficult to walk and very slow.

In comparison, although the Red Keep was far from the Lion's Gate, if they galloped forward, it might be faster than starting from the Great Sept of Baelor, which was less than half the distance.

Attis was not in the carriage, but just put a carriage in it for show. He was in the Red Keep, in front of the narrow door of the king's bedroom.

"Sorry, Prime Minister," Sir Baron Swen held the sword, "The king is still resting in the bedroom, I'm afraid he can't see you."

"The Prime Minister wants to invite the king to participate in the parade. He has missed the entire funeral, and it is the duty of the closest relatives to see grandpa and mother off." Ange took the box and said to the vigilant Baron Swen.

Baron swallowed his throat lightly, his palms sweated, and he felt powerless when holding the hilt of the sword. "The king has his own ideas. I'm afraid he is still praying alone in the house." He took a step back with the sword and turned his head to look at Manden Moore who was also guarding the door of the king's house with him.

Mandon looked at Balon, then at his palm, stared at the door of the king's bedroom for a while, and stretched out his hand to open the door, "Your Majesty, the Prime Minister is here to see you."

Balon's eyes widened, "Sir Moore, you..."

"Good Sir, excellent Kingsguard," Atis nodded and walked into the house, "Sir Vardis Egan often missed the days when you and he were together in the parade grounds in the Eyrie."

"Everyone has their duties, Prime Minister, please come in." Mandon Moore nodded, stretched out his right arm to hold the narrow door, and let Atis and his blue robes enter.

The door closed with a "bang", and Balon Swen's eyes were still wide open staring at Mandon Moore.

Manden moved away, mumbling, and said lightly, "You didn't stop it either."

"Your Majesty," Artis pushed open the small door of the inner room, "Queen Cersei, your mother would not want to miss her child at her funeral."

There was a bulge on the bed, and Joffrey's face appeared from it.

"Myrcella didn't attend her mother's funeral either." The king's voice was like falling leaves, and he looked like he would lose his soul if the wind blew a few times.

"Cersei Lannister's coffin will go north to Harrenhal, where my lady will meet her mother," Artis said, frowning at the king who seemed to be seriously ill, "and Tywin Lannister will return to Casterly Rock and be buried in the best cemetery in Lannister."

"Then do it."

"You seem to be in poor health. Do you need a maester to treat your majesty?"

"No." Joffrey covered his face with the quilt.

Atis paced in the bedroom for a few steps, and did not continue to insist, turning around and leaving the bedroom.

"Tell the church and let them announce that the king is seriously ill," Atis whispered to Ange, and then said: "The city needs to send a maester as soon as possible to act as the Grand Maester and take care of the king's body."

"Then now"

"Give the king some time to see if he wants to stay in the bedroom all the time."

Atis said no more, walked down the spiral staircase in silence, and walked through the corridor.

Oldtown is not like before, sending letters to King's Landing more and more frequently. Now most of the news from the River Bay comes from Oldtown, such as the Iron Race, the Chamber of Commerce being attacked, the money being robbed, the Hightower summoning vassals and accumulating strength, and the reconstruction of the Oldtown fleet, etc.

The fleet of the Iron Islands is indeed powerful, but in Attis's opinion, the strength of Oldtown has been almost completely preserved since the beginning of the war, so it's a good time to see what the potential of the Hightower family is.

The fleet broke through the waves and Earl Paxter Redwyne stood on the bow, looking into the distance for a long time.

During this period, he commanded the Qingting Island fleet to stop at coastal ports many times to replenish logistics and ensure that the fleet had sufficient military supplies to deal with the battle with the Iron Fleet.

The two most powerful naval fleets clashed head-on, which was not Redwyne's style, but the Qingting Island was threatened. Paxter could not tolerate the iron race coming to the island, looting their ports, raping the women of Qingting Island, and killing innocent children. He could not tolerate the Green Land being threatened by this group of dirty and shameless iron people.

The first letter from Qingting Island was received at the port of Salt Coast. The situation was still good, and the soldiers guarding the island could still deal with the occasional landing attacks by the iron people. But after that, the news received each time they docked became increasingly pessimistic. From time to time, there were reports that several villages and ports on the Arbor were destroyed by the Ironmen, and that they were burned, killed, and looted.

These pirates are evil! Paxter thought to himself, punching the mast angrily.

Looking at the flags fluttering in the wind, the blue-bottomed grapevines of the Redwyne family were full of fresh dark purple grapes. For countless years, the Arbor's business has become more prosperous under the governance of Redwyne, and the fleet has become larger. Perhaps the sailors are not as familiar with naval warfare as the bandits of the Iron Islands, but they have all kinds of weapons such as catapults and sea crossbows. The naval warfare of the Ironmen often relies on the mobility of longships. As long as they land on the shore, relying on the dense distribution of castles on the Arbor, they can catch the Ironmen in one fell swoop with just a blockade.

He looked behind, the flags fluttered and the seagulls flew in parallel, and the drums echoed with the soldiers paddling in the distance.

There are a total of 150 ships, and there are 50 warships in the port of Qingting Island. Moreover, the private property of the Redwyne family has five times more commercial ships. As long as the shipyard is slightly modified, countless warships can break through the waves to meet the enemy.

Paxter sneered. The Ironborn are still as stupid as they were decades ago. They betrayed King Robert when he unified the Seven Kingdoms and were in his prime. Now they want to challenge the power of Highgarden and Oldtown. It's ridiculous.

He looked into the distance, and victory was spinning between his fingers.