"The Qohorik? How do you know they're Qohorik?"
"Their banners have a black goat on them! Master Thomas told us to find a place to hide—you should hide too!" The captured monk said, breaking free from Sparrow's grasp and running toward the cellar.
"These Qohorik heretics don't care about being punished by the Seven Gods. Come on, let's go take a look." The two crossed the courtyard and arrived at the monastery gate.
At this moment, a slightly plump old man with a white beard stood atop the wall above the monastery gate and called out, "Lord Vargo Hoat, St. Morse Monastery has always been a staunch supporter of the King. Since the news of the King's coronation arrived, we have presented King's Landing with twenty barrels of the finest wine—priceless treasures! The High Septon has praised our monastery's piety countless times, so please convey our sincerest greetings to Lord Tywin!"
Outside the gate, a rude voice with a strange accent rang out: "Is your greeting just empty words? You greet the Duke, but not Lord Vargo Hoat. Do you look down on me?"
Hearing negotiations taking place above, Brother Sparrow said, "Let's go up and take a look." He then climbed the steps below the wall to the top.
But instead of going to Master Matthew's side, he hid in a corner and peeked through a crack in the parapet.
He saw a tall, thin man, as thin as a bamboo pole, riding his mount under the banner of the Black Goat. His thick, black beard stretched almost from his chin to his waist, making his gaunt face appear even longer than his mount's.
His mount was a strange black-and-white striped horse, with a helmet made of black iron in the shape of a goat's head hanging from the saddle. Around his neck was a chain made of coins of various sizes, shapes, and materials.
Behind him followed a group of oddly dressed mercenaries.
Braided figures with bells and bronze skin rode horses, occasionally letting out incomprehensible roars; lancers rode black-and-white striped steeds; archers wore face powder; short, stout, hairy men carried plush shields; dark-skinned men wore robes made of bird feathers; a gaunt clown wore a green-and-pink checkered costume; swordsmen sported strange mustaches dyed green, purple, and silver; spearmen had faces covered in colorful tattoos; a tall, thin man wore a monk's robe, a kind-faced man wore a maester's grey robe,
and another, with a sickly appearance, wore a leather cloak trimmed with long, golden hair.
In the flickering red light of the torches, this group of mercenaries resembled demons crawling out of hell, inspiring fear and seemingly ready to devour their prey at any moment.
John had arrived at Sparrow's side by then. Seeing the mercenaries outside, he exclaimed, "What a bunch of demons!" Brother Sparrow shook his head and explained in a low voice,
"Compared to these beasts, even the most terrifying demons described in the Seven-Pointed Star might not be half as evil.
These beasts are mercenaries from Essos, calling themselves the Brave Companions, but the common people call them Lord Tywin's 'Bloody Mummers.'
It's said that few survive the villages they raid, and even those who do are often missing limbs. Vargo Hoat particularly enjoys cutting off people's limbs for amusement. I once passed through a village they had plundered; in the center of the sanctuary hung a man whose limbs had all been cut off."
John's eyes narrowed, and he asked, "Why do they do this?" Brother Sparrow shook his head and replied, "Nobody knows. Perhaps it's simply because they can do it; that reason is sufficient for them."
Meanwhile, Master Matthew hadn't given up on negotiations.
He addressed Vargo Hoat above him, saying, "Lord Vargo Hoat, we are the Brewing Abbey, directly under the Faith of King's Landing, and are under the dual protection of the Holy Church and the King. You'd better not get yourself into trouble!"
Vargo Hoat burst into laughter, and the entire "Bloody Mummers" joined in the laughter. As the laughter subsided, Vargo Hoat slurred, "All right, since you are the king's loyal subjects, I'm willing to let you off this time. But my brothers have been traveling all day and are very thirsty. Surely it's all right if you bring us some wine?"
Master Matthew immediately turned to Thomas below the wall and asked, "How much wine do we have at our disposal?"
Thomas replied in a low voice, "Thirty-one barrels left; the rest are already pre-ordered."
Master Matthew turned back to the crowd below and said, "We have ten barrels of new wine. As the acting headmaster, I'm willing to give you half of them as a testament to our friendship."
"Five barrels?! Are you trying to fob us off?"
"Vargo Hoat, break down the door—we'll go in and get it ourselves!"
The members of the Bloody Mummers, speaking in different accents and languages, began to shout loudly.
"Shut up, all of you!"
Vargo Hoat said coldly to Master Matthew on the wall. "Old man, if it weren't for the fact that you're a servant of the gods, I would have chopped off all your limbs today and roasted them one by one to feed my mount. Now, hurry up and get ready. If I don't see the barrels of wine you promised within ten minutes, none of you in the monastery will survive."
Master Matthew wiped the sweat from his brow with his sleeve. "Yes, I'll get ready right away."
"This is too unusual," Brother Sparrow said. "The Bloody Mummers' reputation has never been described as so easy to talk to. We have to warn Brother Matthew."
With that, Brother Sparrow came out from his hiding place and whispered in Master Matthew's ear, "Brother Matthew, be careful—it might be a trap. It's really unlikely that you can get rid of these bandits with just five barrels of wine."
Although Master Matthew's voice trembled slightly, as an old man, he clearly possessed wisdom befitting his age. He replied in a low voice, "It's okay. After we bring the wine over, we'll just lower it down the wall with a rope. We won't open the gate."
Brother Sparrow nodded in agreement. "Since you've already thought of that, then I have nothing more to say—just be very careful."
A moment later, five barrels were carried to the wall, where the monks hoisted them and tied them with ropes. Master Matthew said to Vargo Hoat below, "Lord Vargo, please step back a bit. These barrels are very heavy; I would be very upset if they accidentally hit you when lowered."
Vargo Hoat smiled slightly and stepped back a few meters. Soon, the monks carefully hoisted the five barrels outside the gate. Vargo Hoat dismounted, walked to the barrels, pried open the lids with his dagger, and scooped up a handful of the crimson liquid, pouring it into his mouth. A moment later, he spat out large mouthfuls of wine, angrily saying, "Damn it, this is the good wine you call it? It's not even as good as an old lady's saliva!"
He raised his head, his eyes filled with rage: "Old man, do you think my small force can't take over your estate, so you dare to be so presumptuous?!"
Master Matthew felt a little guilty. He hadn't brought out the best wine, but the quality of what he had wasn't bad either; each barrel was worth twenty silver stags—equivalent to many farmers' annual income.
So he replied to Vargo Hoat, "Lord Vargo Hoat, the best wine has already been sent to King's Landing. The rest, while not the best, are certainly not bad. Please believe our sincerity; we haven't deceived you in the slightest."
However, Vargo Hoat ignored his explanation, returned to his horse, and waved to his men. The strangely dressed monsters immediately pulled out a dozen people from the shadows. These people were one by one brought down to the ground by the mercenaries, screaming in terror.
"Master Matthew, it's me, it's Lauba! Please save me!"
"Master Matthew, these people are demons! They killed my family!"
"Seven Gods, merciful Seven Gods, please save me!"
The people being dragged out cried out; the scene was chaotic. Vargo Hoat grabbed the hair of the woman closest to him, revealing her face, and said to Master Matthew, "Old man, do you recognize this woman?"
Master Matthew squinted and recognized her as a peasant girl from the monastery's estate, exclaiming in surprise, "Lord Vargo Hoat, what do you mean? They're all innocent!"
Vargo Hoat smiled contemptuously, and with a swift stroke of his scimitar, slashed the woman's neck. With the sound of blood gushing out, the woman's body fell limply to the ground. Seeing this, the other mercenaries also killed the peasants in front of them, and the scene instantly became bloody and cruel.
Vargo Hoat addressed Matthew, who was perched on the wall, "Old man, I'll be back tomorrow afternoon. I'm warning you—prepare a thousand golden dragons and all the best wine, or these people will suffer the same fate!" With that, he mounted his horse and rode away. The other mercenaries followed him, leaving one after another.
Master Matthew, watching the blood-soaked troupe disappear into the darkness, was frantic with worry. He immediately ordered, "Quickly, open the gate and see if there are any survivors outside!"
"Yes, Acting Abbot!" the monks responded swiftly. At this moment, Brother Sparrow, still on the wall, also stared at the departing mercenaries, his mind filled with doubt: "John, they killed so many people here just to warn us?"
John didn't think it through, but said angrily, "What a bunch of madmen who treat human lives like weeds!"
Brother Sparrow frowned, his intuition telling him that things weren't simple: "Something's not right—something's very wrong—forty or fifty fully armed mercenaries, coming all this way to us, just to extort a little bit of gold dragon?" He couldn't understand the reason no matter how hard he tried.
Just then, the monastery gate opened, and several young and strong monks strode out to the pool of blood outside, beginning to examine the wounded one by one.
"This one's still breathing!" a monk shouted. "This one's still alive too!" another monk chimed in, emphasizing the urgency of the situation. The monks immediately threw themselves into the frantic rescue efforts.
Master Matthew, hearing this, immediately commanded, "Quick, bring them in! May the Seven Gods protect them!"
However, Brother Sparrow, upon hearing this, suddenly shuddered and shouted, "No! Close the door!" But his warning was too late.
At that moment, from among the dozen or so people lying in pools of blood, five or six men suddenly stood up, drawing scimitars or short swords from their waists, and without hesitation stabbed the monks trying to help them. Then, they blocked the monastery door, preventing it from closing. Simultaneously, with a sharp whistle, the sound of fierce hooves suddenly arose in the distance.
Although he hadn't yet seen who was approaching, Brother Sparrow immediately made a judgment. He grabbed John and ran outside, shouting, "John, run! Your monastery is finished!"
John looked back as he ran and saw the Bloody Mummers, torches in hand, rushing through the gate and killing indiscriminately. He cried out in terror, "I… I know the back door! It's too late!" Brother Sparrow hadn't considered the back door, because once the Bloody Mummers entered the monastery, they would find it sooner or later. He pulled John along the wall to the side of the monastery, then jumped off first.
The monastery wall was about five meters high, equivalent to two stories. While not particularly high for a siege, it could still cause considerable trouble for attackers if the defenders were determined. That's why the Bloody Mummers were unwilling to sacrifice their own men to fill the gap.
But for those determined to escape, this height was hardly an obstacle. John, only in his thirties, seeing the white-bearded Brother Sparrow so brave, naturally didn't want to be outdone and jumped down as well. However, he lost his balance and fell hard, landing sideways in excruciating pain.
After groaning a few times, John, enduring the agony, stood up, only to find Brother Sparrow still lying motionless on the spot. He immediately bent down and ran over, supporting Brother Sparrow's arm, and ran toward the shadows.
As a monk who had spent several years in this monastery, John naturally knew where to hide nearby. So he carried Brother Sparrow and ran toward the vineyards on the side of the monastery. Beyond the vineyards, they reached a gentle slope leading north. Because this area was unsuitable for growing grapes, the trees had grown freely, forming a grove.
"John, my right shinbone is broken. Don't worry about me, just run. Once they've looted the monastery, they'll definitely come out to search for survivors," Brother Sparrow said painfully.
"It's all right—" John replied breathlessly, "I know a stream ahead, and there are boats on the dock. Once we get on a boat and hide in the lake, no one can catch us."
"John, I—"
"All right, don't talk—I can't breathe!" John interrupted him, and the two limped onward.
Soon, they arrived at the small dock John had mentioned. Sure enough, there was a small boat moored there, and next to it was a small hut with a fishing net hanging outside. John helped Brother Sparrow onto the boat, then went down to the dock and pushed the boat away from the dock. As the small boat entered the stream, he waded through the water, jumped aboard, and, rowing, explained, "This is the small boat our monastery uses for fishing on a rotating basis. It's not big, but each time we catch enough fish from Gods Eye to feed the entire monastery for one meal."
John skillfully rowed the boat toward the center of the lake. In the distance, the monastery was ablaze with fire, its reflection on the lake appearing dazzling.
By dawn, John had rowed the boat to a deserted forest. He found a shallow spot and stopped the boat, then helped Brother Sparrow off the boat. Finding a clean patch of grass, John laid the pale-faced Brother Sparrow down and lifted the hem of his robe. Brother Sparrow's calf was so swollen it bulged through his trousers, clearly a serious injury. Turning his head to look at the pale dawn breaking in the east, Brother Sparrow's heart suddenly calmed.
Their current resting place was right next to the legendary Gods Eye Lake, its waters crystal clear, like a pearl embedded in the earth. Bathed in the morning light, the lake's surface shimmered, as if countless sprites were leaping across it. The distant mountains appeared and disappeared in the thin mist, like a delicate charcoal painting.
He said slowly, "Brother John, my leg is beyond saving. You should go first. This place is beautiful; it's a suitable place for a grave."
John shook his head resolutely and said, "Brother Sparrow, it's just a broken leg, not a fatal injury. You can't just give up like this."
Brother Sparrow sighed and continued, "Of course I know, but in this situation, I'll only be a burden to you. I've lived so many years and seen so many people. I can see you're a devout and ambitious monk. You shouldn't die with me in such an obscure place."
John looked at the rising sun in the east, and after a moment, he said firmly, "Brother Sparrow, you won't die, and neither will I."
He pulled out the dagger Ethan had given him when they parted in Riverrun and carefully cut open Brother Sparrow's trousers. He pressed his hands lightly on the swollen area of Brother Sparrow's calf, his eyes revealing determination and hope.
He said, "A good friend of mine, a priest who serves the Sun God Anshe, once told me that the Sun God he worships is actually one with the Seven Gods we worship. If one is willing to acknowledge this, as a monk of the Seven Gods, I too can invoke divine grace to heal the wounded. I had always strongly rejected this idea, but now I understand. If this is true, then it proves that the Seven Gods are also true gods!
I am willing to try all of this to save you."
Brother Sparrow's expression became serious upon hearing this. Although he had never heard of the Sun God Anshe, seeing John's seriousness, he knew there must be something profound about it. Therefore, he did not stop John, but quietly waited for John's actions.
At this moment, sweat beaded on John's forehead. His voice trembled with tension as he prayed,
"Revered and great Seven Gods, incarnation of Anshe the Sun God, I bow down in utmost devotion to you.
In this golden radiance, I feel your warmth and love.
You are the ruler of the sky, the source of light, illuminating the earth with boundless energy and giving life to all things.
Anshe, the Sun God, please hear my wish, please bestow your divine grace, save this devout brother, restore his leg to its former state, and may all things in the world receive your fair grace!"
Suddenly, golden light flashed in John's eyes, intertwining with the golden radiance of the rising sun. His hands gathered a ball of golden light, and a few breaths later, amidst a sharp pain, Sparrow was astonished to find that the swelling in his right calf had subsided, and the pain was gone.
Sparrow paused for a moment, then asked doubtfully, "…Whose power is this? The Seven Gods or the Sun God?"
John turned his head, the golden mist in his eyes quickly dissipating, and said firmly, "It is the Seven Gods, and the Sun God. They are together, protecting us."
Brother Sparrow's tone was stern, "You are a heretic—but a valuable one. I would like to meet your friend; perhaps you can introduce me."
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