Chapter 398: The Awakening of an Assassin's Soul (Part 3)
Because the residents of the Queenscrown inner keep consisted of a uniform group—free of New Gift settlers or suspicious strangers—most people tended to relax once inside. A prime example was the soldiers from Winterfell who were supposed to be guarding their two young ladies: outside the keep, they were disciplined and inseparable from Arya and Myrcella; but the moment they stepped inside, they immediately shifted into free-range mode.
Relying on this lapse in vigilance, Arya, clutching the hilt of Needle, carefully avoided the guards who were deep in a heated discussion about the Dragon Queen. She reached the bridgehead connecting the keep to the island and ducked behind a building, peeking out to scout the only path onto the island.
Not far away, four guards in black armor stood stiffly at the bridge, keeping a sharp eye on the employees passing to and from.
How do I get past them?
Slip past unseen? Please. It was broad daylight, and the area around the bridge was wide open without a shred of cover. Forget four guards; even if there were only one, as long as he turned his head occasionally, anyone trying to cross would have nowhere to hide.
Lie and say she had business on the island? But the island was tiny—there was nothing on it except a single tower, which had been empty for ages. What possible reason could she have to go there?
Charge across? Get real.
Assassination sounds simple, but doing it is certainly not easy.
Arya thought bitterly, huffing warm air onto her hands in the corner and rubbing them together. After agonizing for a long time without a plan, she finally spotted a somewhat familiar figure: it was Willie, the apprentice to the head chef of Queenscrown. She often accompanied Myrcella to the kitchen to ask for scraps and meat for Tommen's kittens, and they'd become acquainted. The young apprentice was currently carrying a wooden box, the faint steam wafting from it suggesting freshly baked food. Hmph, delivering food to the Mad King's daughter?
Arya felt a surge of secret irritation and sharp jealousy. If only she had some poison—just a little slip into the Dragon Queen's food to kill her silently, that would truly be the best way. Her father said poison was a woman's weapon? He was right!
But now...
She had a sudden inspiration. She shoved Needle, sheath and all, under her clothes, pressing down the protruding tip and cinching her waistband tight to hold it. Then, she stepped boldly out from her hiding spot and called out to Willie: "Hey! You! Come here!"
"Lady Stark?" The young apprentice stopped, turning toward her somewhat blankly while holding the box. "What are you doing here? I saw Lord Egger looking all over for you just now."
"Ugh, never mind him." Seeing that he wasn't coming over, Arya walked to him. Recalling Melisandre's naturally seductive expressions, she tried her best to imitate them, blinking her eyes at him. "What are you doing? Delivering food to the Mad... the Dragon Queen?"
The trick worked. Kitchen apprentices rarely got to talk to girls—especially one like Lady Stark. Even though her attempt was clumsy and raw, he turned bright red instantly. "Yes... my master said to get it there while it's hot. Lord Egger personally ordered that this guest be treated well."
"The kitchen must be busy, you should head back. I'll deliver it for you." Arya acted the part of the helpful soul, reaching out to take the box.
"Wait." Surprisingly, Willie wasn't a total fool this time. He turned and avoided her helpful hand. "My master told me I must deliver it personally!"
"I am Arya Stark, sister to the Warden of the North! Do you think I'd steal your food!" Arya put her hands on her hips and glared, trying to intimidate the apprentice with pure presence. "Give it here!"
"No... no..." Though the apprentice was slightly older than Arya, he was just a common boy. He was genuinely cowed for a few seconds, trembling, before he gathered the courage to shake his head. "No... everyone outside says the Dragon Queen is beautiful... I... I was helping in the kitchen and didn't see her. I want to see for myself. Lord Egger seems to be looking for you urgently, you... you should go see him."
With that, without waiting for her next move, he hurried toward the guards at the bridge as if fleeing for his life.
That apprentice looks honest, but in the end, even he just wants to see the Queen. Men are all the same! Arya stamped her foot in anger, but fearing the attention of the guards, she didn't dare shout. She retreated sullenly back to her hiding spot.
What's going on? According to the stories, shouldn't I have successfully tricked him out of the food box, faced a fierce 'I suspect you're an assassin but have no proof' interrogation from the guards, and finally been let in? Then I'd make the kill, have a thrilling escape, and get away clean!
That's how it happens in stories! Why isn't it working for me!
Frustrated by the repeated failures, Arya scanned the island again. After a moment of gloom, she actually found a new way: though only a wooden bridge connected the island to the shore, the weather was so cold that the lake was frozen. While she didn't know how thick the ice was, she was small and light; she should be able to walk across safely. There was no need to fight her way past the guarded bridge!
Excited by the shortcut, Arya left her hiding spot, humming a tune with forced nonchalance. She threaded through the gaps between buildings and corridors she knew well, circling to a part of the shore far from the bridge. She looked down at the lake surface.
After the lake froze, the ice prevented snow from touching the water, allowing it to pile up. The ice surface was flat and smooth, so the whistling winds easily swept the snow from the center toward the banks. It blended with the snow already on the shore, making it hard to tell where the water ended and the land began. Only the occasional hole indicated the boundary—these were holes chopped by people to draw water, but the area was currently deserted.
Arya remembered: to protect this precious water source and prevent residents from polluting it, her Master had emphasized that no one was to approach the lake without permission. Chopping holes to fish was an activity allowed only with his personal approval. Because the lake was small and the fish few, it was usually forbidden entirely unless there were important guests. Arya herself had only eaten fish from this lake twice... it tasted fresh, but the portions were tiny.
Recalling these details, Arya was certain of two things: first, her weight was definitely fine for the ice; second, she had to watch out for the fishing holes. They might have refrozen or been covered by snow, appearing solid but lacking thickness—stepping on one would be dangerous.
If I accidentally fall into the frozen lake and drown, I wonder if Master would be heartbroken and cry?
Imagining this, Arya inadvertently cast herself in the role of the drowned girl and felt her nose sting. Carrying this tragic sentiment, she wandered the shore until she found a long, thick branch that satisfied her. She knocked the ice off it and, using it as a staff, began her long journey across the ice.
Well, in truth, it was only a few dozen meters to the island. No matter how much she hesitated and tested each step, she arrived in a few minutes. The short journey was actually quite thrilling; Arya used the branch to avoid two hidden fishing holes. When she reached the midpoint between the shore and the island, the ice beneath her feet creaked several times, scaring her so much she dropped low and crawled on all fours to distribute her weight, finishing the last stretch in an undignified scramble.
Panting, she finally reached the island. Now, she was less than ten meters from the Mad King's daughter, separated only by a stone wall.
Pressing herself against the outer wall of the tower, she crept toward the entrance, only to hear the voices of two men.
"Did you feel it?" Guard A spoke in an intentionally low voice. "The Queen has such a powerful aura. I was following Lord Egger to greet her at the arena, and I was so cowed I couldn't even speak. Luckily, it wasn't my turn to talk anyway."
"Hey, you felt it too? I thought it was just a hallucination from being scared by the dragons," Guard B replied. "If the Lord hadn't been there, I honestly felt like kneeling right then and there."
"Me too! It's definitely no illusion. Even after the dragons flew off, she was still intimidating!" Guard A sighed. "The Lord Commander is truly the Lord Commander. Not only did he keep his cool while a dragon stared him down, but he spoke so smoothly, chatting with the Queen like they were old friends. I saw her expression soften quite a bit."
"Yeah, a great man is a great man for a reason; otherwise, anyone could be Lord Commander." Guard B agreed. "Say, do you think she has that 'dragon's breath' about her because she's spent too much time with them, or was she born that way?"
"I think she was born that way. Don't they say she's a dragon herself, the mother of those three? Isn't it normal to have an aura?"
"Rubbish. What magical version are you listening to? She killed her husband and used blood magic to hatch those eggs; she didn't give birth to them!"
"Your version is the rubbish one! Her husband was killed by sorcery, not by her! She has the blood of the dragon. After her husband was murdered, the fire of her rage condensed into physical form and became dragon embryos, and then she laid three eggs!"
"Have you seen how big a dragon egg is? The Queen is so slender, how could she give birth to something that size!"
"You never know. She's never taken off her trousers in front of me. Maybe a Dragon Queen's 'down there' isn't like a normal woman's."
Men really are the same, they can turn any conversation toward that. Arya spat silently and carefully peeked out. Two somewhat familiar Logistics Department soldiers, fully armed in black mail and plate, stood outside the tower entrance. They leaned against the door, facing the bridge, chatting idly.
For the first time, Arya hated her Master's meticulous nature. It was too much—he'd sent so many people to protect the Mad King's daughter, leaving zero opportunity for an assassin!
What now? She frowned, racking her brain.
Make a noise to lure them away? The island was only so big!
Walk up and lie, saying she had a message for the Queen? By the Old Gods, if she recognized them, there was no way they wouldn't recognize Lady Stark!
Then... charge out and take them down while they were off guard?
Hmm... it was possible, but Arya eyed the size and equipment of the two large guards and hesitated. No, no, forget it. If she killed her Master's most trusted guards, he would be furious. How would she explain it to him?
Besides, she was an assassin. Assassins were about infiltration and silent kills. Charging in like a warrior—could you even call that an assassin?
This wasn't being a coward; it was being professional.
Does the tower have a hole to crawl through? I could climb up and enter a window like Bran used to do!
She looked up at the tower, but as she turned her head, she suddenly noticed a massive dark shadow beside her. She nearly fell into the snow from fright. Looking closer, it was her Master—while she had been scouting the guards at the door, he had somehow circled behind her silently. Under the cover of the whistling wind, she hadn't noticed him at all!
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