Wylis felt his heart pound. He was no god. He was no Dragon. He couldn't face an entire city's army alone. It was unknown what lay beyond that timer, and he really didn't want to find out.
He wasted no more time and jumped down into the tunnel he'd made. He made sure to leave behind a perfectly looking floor so no one would ever know how he escaped. Then, with a small homemade torch, he crawled through the tunnel.
Crawling down floor after floor, he soon arrived at what was the torture chamber, the deepest level.
"Aaammm…"
What?
That night, he heard a lot of sounds coming from outside his secret tunnel's walls. The torture chamber was right on the other side.
"MMmmmngh!"
Someone's getting tortured? Who?
Curious to at least know who it was, Wylis made a tiny hole in the wall. So tiny that it was barely the size of his fingertips. But it was enough to get a look inside. A dimly lit large chamber, a stone block in the center, on which a man was tied with his arms and legs locked in chains.
As the prisoner writhed, he got a good look at the face. And no, he couldn't recognize the man. However, he did easily recognize the torturer. It was surprising.
Pycelle? What the fuck's he doing here?
Pycell's rookery wasn't inside Maegor's Holdfast. The man was a long way away from his bunker.
Right then, he saw Pycelle walk towards the prisoner, holding a tiny vial in his hand. As usual, the old man dismissively ignored the prisoner's panic and forced the vial's contents down into the mouth.
"Ah… yes, yes, be still now, lad, be still. You—killed a family. Four, yes? For bread. Bread. Hmph! You should hang, truly, but… I am merciful. If… yes, if you survive what comes next—my, ah, experiment—you may walk free." Pycelle muttered, although the locked man couldn't speak, his mouth once again stuffed with cotton. And in mere moments, the prisoners stopped moving entirely.
"Mmm, fight it, fight it, lad... yes. If that dung-shoveling brute could do it, you can too! How could he... how could he thwart my Strangler? I brewed it myself, oh yes, finest tincture this side of Lys. Hmph. Immunity to poison... a rare gift, unnatural, unnatural... When His Grace finishes with the brute, I must secure... yes, a vial of his blood, just a drop, for study, for the good of the realm. Mm? Another one? Dead? Gods preserve us. That's fifteen now, isn't it? Guards! Fetch in the next unfortunate."
He poisoned me?!
Wylis sat on the other side of the wall, wide-eyed, his skin crawling and goosebumps raised. What Pycelle mumbled gave too much information. The King had something deadly planned for him. Pycelle plotted to kill him, and likely not on the King's demand. And…
Fuckers trying to replicate my poison immunity?
Of course, it was bullshit. His poison immunity couldn't be attained naturally.
Really, he wanted to bust through that wall, grab Pycelle by the neck, and get some answers. Was it Rhaegar? Was it the Princess? Was it the King? Or maybe the Lannisters? Who the fuck was it?
But with that continuous timer flickering in the corner of his vision, he patched up that hole. Pycelle was going to last past the dynasty. He'd have his time to torture the old fucker and get the answers.
He crawled past the Maergor's Holdfast's limits and then under Godswood. In no time, he was back under the outermost, western wall of the castle. He once again removed the opening he'd covered before and found the scarcely lit city not far away.
Shhhh~
He slid down the dirt hill and soon landed on the periphery road that ran adjacent to the city's wall. Knowing his size was a major issue, he quickly rushed into the nearest alley before the patrolling guards could see him.
He didn't go towards Eel Alley, as Qyburn had already left. He'd told the man to grab his precious horse, take the delivery of his new sword from the blacksmith, and leave the city before the gates closed. The man was supposed to wait for him outside King's Gate, near the slum-like houses.
Ding!
Ding!
Ding!
It wasn't the chime of Tyrant's Squire. No, it was far more haunting. It was far more real and loud. Coming from a distance, from the West.
Fuck! What now?!
It was late at night, and it didn't make sense that the Great Sept of Baelor would ring its bells. It felt far too ominous.
But the timer didn't change!
He still had two hours and one minute left.
Ding!
Ding!
Ding!
The Sept's bell was continuous, and it kept ringing for a long, long time. Following that, Wylis heard increased footsteps on the main street not far from him. The metallic noise of armor clanking was unavoidable. They were Gold Cloaks.
Is this for me?
Once again, he reminded himself, he was no god. He couldn't brutishly push his way out of the city. The gates were already locked for the night, but his plan was to get close to a southern wall, at least, and climb it using Earthbending.
But that plan went down the drain now. The nearest wall to him led him out onto Aegon's High Hill. From there, he'd have to cross Blackwater Rush.
He ran his brain fast, trying to think of the shortest route out. One thought came that he could hide in Flea Bottom. But then he realized, a seven fucking feet tall man can't hide anywhere. That night was all he had. He had to escape.
Fuck! Fuck it!
Before every street in the city could be crowded by Gold Cloaks, Wylis ran back to the hill he'd just slid down from. He climbed it up again, opened the tunnel opening he'd come out of, and vanished back under the Red Keep.
He kept crawling back until he found a lot of roots protruding down. From there, he dug up using Earthbending with complete ease, compressing the loose dirt, and in no time, he came out in the dark Godswood. With a rush, he flattened the ground again and then ran to the thick wall of the Red Keep nearest to him.
He used bare hands and earthbending to make a temporary ladder for himself. Each latch to hold he made, he erased once used, hiding his steps.
After careful surveying, he ensured that nobody was above the wall. If the Great Sept's bells had rung, it meant most of the soldiers were running across the city. And since the wall he was on overlooked the city, atop the hill, it was impossible to sneak in from there, requiring even less security.
Now the fucking Kingsguards!
He moved on top of the wall, eastwards, as the pathway curved. He crossed the rookery easily since Pycelle wasn't there anyway. But then came the White Sword Tower, which housed the Kingsguards.
But he knew where they were stationed that night. He had access to that information. Some were likely resting as well.
Carefully, he went around the White Sword Tower, using Earthbending to silence his footsteps by turning the floor softer. From there, he ran through the place where Elia Martell and the ladies would gather.
At last, he arrived on top of the Eastern wall of the city. He looked inside from there, back into the large courtyard, open from all sides to look into. But it also houses crucial buildings like the Small Hall, the Tower of the Hand, the Kitchens, the Royal Sept, and the part he was after, the stables.
Quickly, he jumped off the edge of the high wall and carefully lowered himself into the courtyard, right beside the stables. He wasn't fully sure, but he had reasons to believe that a tunnel was right underneath the stables. It was hidden under a slab of stone, but it was there.
He'd sensed it during the countless walks over the past few days while following the Queen and her bratty son, and at times, entertaining Elia's daughter. In fact, he had sensed a shit ton of tunnels, but none felt so clear and fresh as this one.
Where the fuck is it?
The noise was audible from a distance. Men running and shouting. The horses were all gone from the stables, meaning the defense was low.
He walked inside the stables and purposefully looked for a secret spot. Soon enough, he located the small storage room inside the stables, filled with crates, buckets, tools to shovel dung, and other horse-tending tools.
Found it!
As soon as he put his hands on the dirt floor, he felt it. The tunnel's entrance was right underneath the crate. But he didn't need to move it. In that limited space, he just pulled a fat chunk of earth out. It was mostly stones and dirt.
Fuck, I've got no torch!
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