Without Logan noticing, three coarse-robed cultivators, two men and one woman, trailed behind him.
Although they were disheveled, dressed in simple gray hemp clothes like people attending a poor gathering, Logan instantly recognized the identity of the handsome man in the middle, who stood only 1.4 meters tall.
On his left was a lean, sharp, and cold girl; on his right stood a sturdy, muscular man nearly 1.95 meters tall.
"You are…" Logan widened his eyes, staring in disbelief at the strong man's smooth, full, sharply contoured face. "You're the Hound. Were you cursed by the forest witch too?"
His voice shifted from rough and deep to sweet and shrill, the voice of a eunuch.
He was Varys. Logan was merely one of the many disguises used by the Eight-Clawed Spider.
The highest level of disguise is not just changing clothes or appearance, nor even altering one's voice. The key is that others fully accept the identity.
Logan was an old friend and neighbor to many in King's Landing.
In truth, Logan was not even Varys's most advanced disguise. He once lived as a plump middle-aged woman in King's Landing for over a decade, and no one realized he was actually a man.
"This is how I originally looked," the Hound said, touching his smooth left cheek and sighing. "After becoming a priest and learning surgical techniques from the Mother, it took me half a year to mostly repair the burn scars on my face."
"You, a dog without any sense of honor, becoming a priest?" Varys said incredulously.
"The Mother does not need false honor," the Hound replied calmly.
"And you are?" Varys looked at the girl.
The girl's gray eyes were completely emotionless. She glanced at him but said nothing.
"She has taken a vow of silence and doesn't speak nonsense," Tyrion said with a smile.
"A vow of silence… you…" Varys's expression shifted from confusion to shock, but he stopped himself from saying her name. Instead, he asked, "This is quite a strange group. Why are you looking for me? To arrest me?"
"This isn't the place to talk."
The Hound glanced at the shopkeeper peeking out from the grocery store and turned toward the Mud Gate.
After hesitating for a moment, Varys spoke briefly to the shopkeeper and quickly followed them, leaving her behind muttering curses.
The Blackwater River was filled with densely packed small boats, like middle-aged women newly released from prison, frantically squeezing every last bit from their husbands. Every fish in the river, regardless of size, and every snail or shellfish, dead or alive, was a target for the hungry fishermen.
Farther out in Blackwater Bay, a small sun lit up the sky, and fishing boats flying church banners moved back and forth.
After walking along the river for some distance, as the crowd thinned, Varys finally asked seriously, "How did you find me?"
"If the Three-Eyed Raven can't find the Night King, could it fail to find a mere mortal like you? Where can you hide? Do you think your disguises can deceive the gods?" Tyrion mocked.
"Sigh, how can such terrifying beings exist? It completely disrupts balance," the plump eunuch lamented.
"What balance? Try talking about balance with the Others," the dwarf sneered. "Only beings as powerful as the Three-Eyed Raven and the Dragon Queen can balance the Night King and the God of Cold. If humanity were left with ordinary people like you, it would have gone extinct long ago."
"Why are you looking for me? What does the Dragon Queen intend to do with me?" Varys asked helplessly.
"You have two choices. Right here by the river, you kneel down and let me chop off your head with one swing of my axe, then feed your corpse to my Tessa. Your death will atone for your crimes.
Or you join the missionary team and follow Saint Matthew to the eastern lands to spread the scriptures of the Seven Gods."
"What choice do I have?" the eunuch said bitterly. "Even with eight legs, I can only crawl in one direction. Tell me about this missionary team."
Tyrion explained what he could and added meaningfully, "Your task is simple. Use your talents as the Eight-Clawed Spider to gather intelligence on all evil gods hostile to the Faith of the Seven—their identities, abilities, locations, plans, and weaknesses. When it comes to actually slaying demons, you won't need to fight."
"Do you think I'll live to see that day?" Varys said blankly. "I'm just an ordinary person, and you want me to infiltrate cults of evil gods as a spy. I don't even understand their ways. I'm just a clueless outsider. Isn't that sending me to my death?"
"Yes, it is a mission that sends you to your death," Tyrion nodded matter-of-factly. "You were doomed anyway. Now you have a chance to redeem yourself. Even if the odds are slim, there's still a chance to survive."
"Can I take the black?" Varys asked.
Tyrion shook his head and sighed. "If this were a grand trial with witnesses, basic fairness would have to be maintained.
According to the traditions of the Seven Kingdoms, even for treason, you would be given the chance to join the Night's Watch.
But many times, there is no trial, no witnesses, and therefore no fairness. Whether you live or die depends entirely on someone else's whim."
"Hearing that, I almost regret not surrendering in Fairy City," Varys said helplessly.
"Don't be foolish," Tyrion said. "If she wanted you dead, you wouldn't even make it there. Your life and death have always been in her hands.
Just as her life once depended on your decision. Fate comes full circle. No one escapes it."
"You're right. She has every reason to do whatever she wants with me," Varys said with a bitter smile. "I don't want to die in a foreign land. Westeros is my home.
Being eaten by a dragon would at least be a Targaryen-style fate, though your Tessa is only a wyvern."
With a sharp sound, Arya drew her Needle and spoke for the first time, "Just what I want. Kill you and avenge my father."
"Wait!" Tyrion quickly stopped her. "Let me speak with this dead eunuch alone."
He pulled Varys forward.
But Varys refused to move and said to Arya, "I wronged Daenerys, Rhaegar, even the Mad King, but I never wronged the Starks.
Your father was too stubborn. I advised him to act first, and I told him everything about Cersei's plans.
But that fool went to confront her directly, saying, 'I know your secret. Varys told me. I will act against you in two days. Take your children and leave King's Landing. I don't want my sword stained with the blood of women and children.'
In the end, his own blood stained his sword.
It was so foolish it made my heart ache.
If I hadn't hedged my bets with multiple factions, I would have died because of him.
Even so, I respected his integrity. When Cersei sentenced him to death, I was the only one in King's Landing who persuaded the queen to give him a chance to take the black.
Then Joffrey went mad. No one expected that."
"If not for your schemes to incite chaos in the Seven Kingdoms, my father would never have gone to King's Landing. The conflict between wolves and lions was a play you and Illyrio had planned from the start," Arya said coldly.
"By your logic, every death in the Seven Kingdoms can be blamed on me?" Varys said unhappily.
"That's right. You are the mastermind. Everyone knows it. There's no point arguing," Tyrion said, pulling him away again.
"To be honest, this journey to the eastern lands is both dangerous and full of opportunity. Whether you succeed or fail, at least you can escape the torments of hell," Tyrion said.
"I have an indulgence," Varys replied.
Tyrion sneered. "Where did you get that? With a single word from Saint Daenerys, you could be sent to the deepest part of hell to keep Euron company. Do you believe that?"
"With just one sentence deciding heaven or hell? Is heaven and hell her backyard?" Varys said skeptically.
Tyrion's gaze became strange, filled with pity, disdain, and a hint of pride.
Varys felt uncomfortable under his stare.
"So, have you decided to refuse?" Tyrion asked coldly.
In his eyes, Varys suddenly felt like he had gone from a familiar acquaintance to a pig awaiting slaughter.
A chill ran through him, and fear of death surged within him.
"How could I?" Varys forced a smile. "I'll take the chance. At least there's hope if I try. I just wanted to negotiate for better terms."
Tyrion's expression softened again.
"Serve for five years, and the Dragon Queen will waive further punishment. Then you may choose your path: take the black and serve at the Wall; shave your head and join the monastic order to atone; or take your own life and seek rebirth in the Stranger's realm," Tyrion said, patting his shoulder.
"I thought I would at least gain freedom," Varys sighed.
"If she promised you freedom, she would be lying. Once you complete the mission, she would kill you," Tyrion said coldly. "Your crimes are known throughout the Seven Kingdoms. Would she contradict herself?"
Varys paused, then asked, "What about Arya? Can she be pardoned?"
"There is only lifelong atonement. No instant absolution. The grand trial may not be perfectly fair, but it is sacred and unchangeable."
After a moment of silence, Varys asked, "What support will I have?"
"The royal family of Yi Ti supports us. Gold dragons are unlimited."
"That's good, but I know little about supernatural forces. I don't know where to begin."
"No need to worry. The top young mage of the East is our advisor, and the Necromancers' Association of Yi Ti maintains good relations with the church."
Two days later, Dragonstone.
Saint Matthew, Tyrion, Arya, Varys, and the Hound stood in line, bidding farewell to Saint Daenerys.
"Matthew, you can no longer use your name."
"Why?" Saint Matthew asked in surprise.
"You are an angel, the chosen son of the Faith of the Seven. You must have a name that represents your mission. Today, I grant you the name 'Qizang.' The Seven Gods, seven doctrines, each with its own scripture. Your mission is to spread these scriptures across Yi Ti and the Jade Sea," the Dragon Queen declared.
"Thank you, Your Majesty, for the name. From now on, I am Qizang. I will fulfill this mission and ensure the teachings of the Seven Gods flourish in the Jade Sea," Qizang said solemnly.
Daenerys nodded. "Do you understand what you carry with you?"
"I do. The Mother's compassion, the Father's justice, the Maiden's freedom and radiance, the Crone's wisdom, the Smith's diligence and creativity, the Warrior's courage, and the Stranger's reverence for the unknown. These are what I carry," Qizang replied insightfully.
Daenerys sighed. "That is what you carry in your heart. You must also carry something in your hands."
(End of Chapter)
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