Eagle of the Valley of Ice and Fire

Maester Luwin sat upright, always wearing a gray suit, with toys and desserts that children liked, as well as books and letters that maesters often carried hidden in their sleeves. It was hard to imagine how he moved his hands.

He sat quietly in a chair, with letters from lords and nobles from all over the world and books from the library on his desk.

And Eddard, the Duke of Winterfell, who served him, was sitting on his bed, frowning, in deep worry and suspicion.

"Excuse me, sir." Luwin saw that Eddard had not spoken for a long time, so he spoke.

Eddard raised his head and looked at him for help.

Luwin swallowed, "This letter, from Lady Lysa, is hard to convince."

Eddard relaxed his brows and asked, "Tell me about it, maester."

"Motive, sir, as a maester, it is my duty to read history. In my opinion, the eldest son heir is the least likely to kill his father, especially..." Luwin hesitated and looked into Eddard's eyes.

"Speak frankly, Maester Luwin, since the arrival of the southerners, I have been deeply tired of lies and flattery. To be frank, we are still in the North." Eddard rubbed his temple and said helplessly.

Luwin sat up straight and said frankly: "Especially for an old duke like the former Prime Minister, who is so old and frail, it is even more impossible for the eldest son to take action, not to mention that the relationship between the Prime Minister and Master Artis is known to all the Seven Kingdoms."

Eddard frowned. The northern wolf did not like this kind of calculation without honor, but he agreed with Luwin's next sentence. Jon had a son in his old age, and he devoted a lot of effort and affection to Artis.

"And Lady Lysa's letter," Maester Luwin took a deep breath, "I have a very bad guess, sir."

Eddard was slow at this time and roughly guessed what Luwin wanted to say, "Speak, Maester." His face remained gloomy.

"I suspect it's Lady Lysa. She wants to frame Master Artis. After all, she has a youngest son, Robert Arryn. We have seen this kind of motive in history. He is the second son." Luwin looked at Eddard and suddenly remembered something. He said hurriedly, "Sorry, sir, I mean there are many in history."

"Don't be nervous, Luwin. I appreciate your frankness." Eddard himself is the second son. He knows what Maester Luwin is afraid of.

"That's all I can say. If the master is still hesitant, it's better to confront Artis directly and see how he reacts." Luwin said goodbye and left, heading for the library.

"Face to face." Eddard frowned. He remembered the family motto of the Arryn family, "High as glory." Eddard said softly.

"I don't believe that the Arryn family would do such a thing that violates honor." Eddard made up his mind and turned to leave the maester's room. The wolf never did those things that were roundabout. He didn't want to have this layer of rift between him and his adoptive father's eldest son.

The dilapidated old city of Winterfell is intricate and complex, like a vast maze. In many older places, entering the hall is like walking into an upside-down world, with tilted and cracked walls and ancient murals carved on the walls, which is particularly mysterious.

The king's hunting team had set out as early as dawn and might not return until dusk. King Robert shouted that he wanted to add a wild boar feast to today's dinner, and rode away with his hands rubbing. And Bran, he stayed at home bored, watching the hunting team leave.

Fortunately, Sir Artis did not leave either. He defeated his eldest brother Robb with a blunt sword in the parade ground a week ago, so Robb has always been with Artis recently, and he practiced swords with Artis even when the king went hunting.

Bran liked to watch them wielding long swords. He fantasized about going south in the future, going to King's Landing, and being a Kingsguard beside the king, wearing white clothes and white armor, guarding the king and killing the invading enemies. Fantasy always makes people excited, but soon he became bored, quietly slipped out of the parade ground, avoided Arya's eyes, and ran freely to the castle that belonged to him.

The bonfire on the parade ground was burning, and the guards of Winterfell were roasting the rabbit meat they caught on it, and the fragrance filled the whole parade ground. Anguy looked at the rabbit meat greedily, and even forgot to hand Atis a towel to wipe his sweat.

Robb waved his long sword, trying to find the gap and space where Atis held his sword, but every time he thought he found his flaw, it was always Atis's bait, and he was fooled again and again, and fell to the ground again and again.

"Damn it!" Robb got up in a mess and slashed the ground fiercely.

Are all running wolves so impatient? Artis thought that among the wolf children he had seen, except for Sansa who had the polite temperament of a noble girl, the wolf blood of the others, such as Bran, Rickon, and Arya who mingled with boys every day, was always boiling. Artis felt that they had infinite vitality.

Even Jon Snow, who had always been accustomed to being silent in front of strangers, could not hide his anger and resentment since he ran out of the banquet, and his temper was very explosive.

Then there was Robb Stark, who was angry and impulsive.

"Don't be impatient, Robb, your swordsmanship needs to be more delicate, don't always try to attack in a hurry." Artis said to Robb.

Robb walked aside with some frustration, "Let me rest, Artis." He sat down by the fire, picked up the rabbit meat handed by the Winterfell guard, and chewed it with big mouthfuls. There seemed to be no distinction between the guards and Stark, and several people enjoyed it together.

He had only seen this kind of scene in Winterfell. Robb and the others said that Lord Eddard would call a servant from Winterfell, or a blacksmith and a soldier to eat together every night. This was unheard of in the south and in the valley.

Atis didn't know why he was always attracted by the dancing flames in the bonfire, especially after his father ordered him to leave King's Landing and go to the valley to prepare for war, the flames always occupied his sight inadvertently.

The sizzling sound of the bonfire was sometimes louder and sometimes softer, and the burning charcoal released scattered gray smoke. In the rising flames, tall buildings appeared vaguely, and the boy climbing the wall appeared, and the picture gradually approached the boy's face.

"Bran?" The boy's face became clear, and Atis recognized that it was Bran Stark, the second son of the Wolf family.

Bran's figure crawled on the high wall, but gradually became smaller. He was falling! Atis' pupils suddenly became larger, "Damn it!" Atis cursed twice, and he remembered the dream he had by the bonfire, the dream when his father was poisoned.

Artis quickly ran towards the ruined high building of Winterfell in the distance. In the picture of the flames, it seemed to be the tallest one.

"Artis!" Robb asked puzzledly behind him.

A flock of flying crows swarmed into the shed where the horses were tied. The groom was stunned in place. The horses trampled and kicked each other, suddenly broke free from the ropes, and ran around in fear.

When Artis saw the crows, he couldn't help but feel the fear of the mystery in his heart. He flew over, jumped on a horse, and tried hard to control the frightened horse under his crotch, and galloped.

The guards of Winterfell chased their horses in a panic. Robb looked at the mess in front of him and was a little at a loss. Seeing Artis going away, he hurriedly shouted behind him, trying to catch up with a horse and follow Artis, but it was useless. Artis was far away.

There are countless abandoned towers in Winterfell. Galloping through them is like walking through a maze. The wind whistles in his ears, covering his heartbeat. He has calmed down a little now, and looks back at his impulsive behavior in disbelief.

Just thinking about it, he came to the tower in flames.

Bran's body is shaky.

"Bran!", Atis shouted loudly.

Bran climbed up with peace of mind, and seemed to hear someone calling his name downstairs. When he was about to look down, a crow blocked his way forward, and the scarlet eyes stared at Bran, causing him to be terrified.

"Get out of here, black crow!" Bran waved his hand to slap the crow blocking the road and continued to climb up.

Seeing this, Atis cursed in his heart, climbed up the tall building alone with his bare hands, and raised his head from time to time to shout Bran's name loudly, trying to make him hear it.

Crow, crow again.

The black wings blocked his view, and they rushed towards Atis like a swarm of crows, pecking his wrist and forcing him to stop moving his hands and feet.

The scarlet eyes stared at Atis, and Atis drew out his sword and stabbed the crow's eyes. Suddenly, a crow fluttered to the ground, leaving blood splattered on Atis's light cloth armor.

When he looked up again, the crow sky was no longer black, and Bran's figure was clearly seen by him, getting bigger and bigger.

Bran fell at his feet.

Atis was stunned in place, and the crows perched on the tower, staring at him with scarlet eyes, as if mocking him.

Catelyn stood in front of the unconscious Bran, her eyes full of fatigue and distraction.

"Catelin, you should rest." Ed said helplessly.

Catelyn sat there like a dead body, and asked mechanically: "Bran had this incident, that Arryn"

Edward looked at Catelyn who had lost her mind at this time in silence, "Don't joke, Catelyn, Bran just fell from the upstairs."

"Then why was Bran with him at that time?" Catelyn raised her voice and asked.

"Didn't you hear Robb's words clearly, Catelyn." Edward shook his head helplessly, "Artis has been practicing swords with Robb. He must have seen something and ran to the tower. Atis wanted to save Bran?"

"Lysa's letter, Lysa can't lie, Atis is born evil, he can do things like patricide!" Catelyn screamed loudly.

Edward's face turned gloomy in an instant, "Catelin, I order you, don't talk nonsense."

Catelin's tired face drooped, and she didn't speak for a long time.

"The king wants to see me, be strong, Catelyn, you are the Duchess of Winterfell, the North needs you." Edward walked out of the room, leaving Catelyn alone.

The battle between the old gods and the red gods