The Dragonstone guard, who was instructed to do so, held a small knife shorter than his palm. He shrugged at Aegon apologetically and walked towards him.
Aegon, whose torso and limbs were bound, was helpless. He could only shake his body symbolically to struggle, watching the other party approach with wide eyes. His mind raced, but he had no clue what was happening. What was this play? Did his blood, as a transmigrator, also possess the powerful energy needed by the Lord of Light R'hllor? If that were truly the case, would he be thrown into the fire as a sacrifice at some critical moment?
He possessed a wealth of knowledge far exceeding anyone else in this world. He had a grand plan to slowly gain a foothold, even establish his own network of contacts and connections, and eventually rely on capital to interfere in the game of power. He intended to change a bunch of important future plotlines and the fate of this world... He had escaped the White Walkers, stayed far from The Wall, and was just about to start a new life. Was everything going to end abruptly and inexplicably on this barren island at the mouth of Blackwater Bay?
...
Aegon stared wide-eyed at the small knife in the guard's hand. Letting out a few drops of blood certainly wouldn't scare him to the point of wetting his pants or begging for mercy, but how he would be dealt with afterward was the key. He prided himself on being a smart person, like Tyrion, but facing an opponent whose intentions were completely unknown and who had suddenly shown hostility, he was at a loss.
"My arm, gently please, thank you!" Seeing the guard holding the knife tremble, Aegon spoke up, deciding where the cut would be made. This was the last bit of dignity he could preserve in this sudden turn of events.
"Okay..."
The one holding the knife was a young guard, under twenty, who was still a child when the last war happened. He had joined Stannis's guard for nearly a year. This was the first time in his life he had used a tool to draw blood from someone else. Aegon's instruction made him even more nervous. He used too little force, cutting the wound shallowly. It took several seconds for blood to slowly seep out.
The guard quickly scraped off a few drops of blood with the back of the knife and hurried to present them to the Red Priestess.
Melisandre took out a handkerchief, wiped the small knife to soak up the blood on it, then flicked her hand and threw the blood-stained cloth into the brazier, staring intently at the flames.
Aegon's gaze also turned to the fire—he saw nothing. Of course, his blood couldn't have any "power." The flames quickly engulfed the handkerchief. Besides a small flare-up, the color and temperature didn't change much.
But Melisandre's expression became solemn. She stared wide-eyed, as if the bright fire contained the answer to some ultimate question, but the writing was too small to see clearly—she stepped forward and held onto the stand of the brazier, leaning closer, and closer... almost burying her face in the flames. Aegon was surprised to find that the flames were licking at her hair, yet couldn't even curl it a little. This priestess of the Lord of Light indeed had some tricks up her sleeve; she wasn't afraid of fire!
About a minute later, the woman released the brazier stand, stepped back from the brazier, and fixed her gaze back on the Night's Watchman with interest, opening her red lips once more.
She didn't have time to speak because the door of the room was pushed open forcefully with a "bang," and a man walked in.
...
"You arrested that Night's Watchman?"
Against the light of the flames, Aegon couldn't see the newcomer's face, but based on intuition and the questioning tone, he guessed his identity: "Lord Stannis! I came here on Jeor Mormont's orders to handle the dragonglass mining matters. You should know that. I swear I didn't do anything bad on your island! If I have unintentionally offended you in any way, please forgive me! Can you please untie me first so I can speak? I can confront Ms. Melisandre about anything!"
"What do you mean by this?" The man didn't respond to Aegon's shouts but coldly asked Melisandre: "The Night's Watch needs to come to the island to mine dragonglass. Lord Stark wrote to inform me of this, and I agreed. On my land, who do you think you are, daring to order the arrest of a visitor who entered with my permission?"
"Do you remember the ancient foreign gods I spoke to you about?" The Red Priestess respectfully nodded towards the man, her face still smiling. "I sensed a very strong aura of foreign gods on this Night's Watchman. I want to know what that, or perhaps those 'gods,' sent him here for."
"I don't care what you want to know, Melisandre." Stannis's tone remained flat. "You have some abilities, which is why I keep you on the island, but if you keep talking nonsense and doing ridiculous things like a madwoman, perhaps I should send you away. Now, either release this Night's Watchman and gain his forgiveness, or get out of Dragonstone immediately!"
Aegon relaxed instantly. Having escaped a disaster, his mind was blank for several seconds, but then he silently clenched his fists behind his back: knowing the plot and possessing a wealth of advanced knowledge and concepts became meaningless at this moment. His fate, in front of these "big figures," was merely a matter of a single sentence. The need to quickly convert his advantages into tangible power and influence suddenly became so urgent.
"As you wish, Lord." Melisandre narrowed her eyes, her expression changing slightly, and surprisingly, she bowed her head submissively. "Release him."
The guard, still holding the small knife, was also confused, but since the Lord had spoken and the messenger of the Lord of Light had also nodded, he didn't need to worry about whose orders to follow. He walked behind Aegon and began to untie the Night's Watchman's ropes.
Stannis snorted coldly and turned to leave the room.
...
Perhaps intimidated by the Lord who had just been angry, or perhaps always so clumsy, the young guard buried his head and spent several seconds without finding a way to untie the ropes. Melisandre finally shook her head impatiently: "You go, I'll do it."
Since ordering Aegon's arrest, the witch had always stood defensively about two meters away from him. Now, certain that the other party posed no threat, she confidently approached the Night's Watchman again. Amidst the rushing heat—she ran her hand along Aegon's arm over the ropes binding him.
Along with the smooth touch of the woman's palm, a subtle burning sensation came. The ropes binding his entire body snapped one after another with soft "pop, pop" sounds, and Aegon regained his freedom.
He took a step to stand firm, stretched his arms, and touched the places where he felt a burning pain. Aside from being slightly warm, there were no burns on his skin. Looking at the broken ropes that had fallen to the ground, the broken ends were all scorched black, still giving off wisps of smoke—burning the ropes but not burning himself? Just this one trick, Aegon couldn't explain with any knowledge he had in his mind... Melisandre stood within reach, as if he could strangle her with a single stretch of his hand, but Aegon had to admit that he probably couldn't do anything to this seemingly delicate woman in front of him.
"Apologies, my friend in black." Melisandre's tone softened, but unfortunately, the lack of any remorse on her face made the apology seem insincere. In her eyes, saying this to a mortal was already giving him face; it was impossible to be more humble. "It was the first time I felt such a strong aura of a foreign god other than my Lord of Light without any preparation. I was a bit flustered and lost my composure, which led to improper behavior and caused the guest to suffer. Please forgive me."
***
Aegon didn't intend to forgive the other party just like that, nor did he plan to leave in a huff. A person with a good temper is no joke when they get angry, and compared to pointless anger, he hated the feeling of being targeted in the dark by an enemy with unpredictable methods even more. He wanted to understand the situation tonight—if Melisandre couldn't give a reasonable explanation, then his blacklist might need to add a "until death do us part" category.
The first thing he would do after returning to King's Landing, before raising the next batch of supplies, recruiting new soldiers, or even starting to raise funds, was to find a way to get rid of this woman.
He even quickly thought of a way. Jaqen H'ghar of the Faceless Men was currently in the dungeon in King's Landing. Yoren might have already chosen him as one of the new recruits to be taken back to The Wall in the next batch. As a follower of the Thousand-Faced God, that guy naturally wouldn't be willing to be taken to The Wall obediently and swear to become a Night's Watchman... If he could release him, it shouldn't be difficult to ask him to kill someone for him. Aegon was even a little curious: what kind of sparks would fly when a follower of the Thousand-Faced God, who claims to be able to kill anyone, goes up against the mysterious Red Priestess?
"It's easy for me to say to Lord Stannis 'I forgive you,' Lady," Aegon took a deep breath. "But after eating a good meal, suddenly being grabbed, tied to a pillar, and taking a knife cut, if I don't know what that cut was for, I believe no one could swallow that... I need an explanation, Ms. Melisandre."
—