Chapter 52 Chapter 51 Arya

"Go," Syrio Forel yelled, swinging at her head.Arya raised her sword to block, and the wooden swords intersected with a click. "Left." He called again, and the wooden sword whizzed out.Her sword rushed towards her too.There was another click, and she gritted her teeth. "Right," he said, followed by "Down," "Left," "Left," faster and faster, step by step.Arya kept backing away, throwing every blow away. "Let's charge," he warned.So as he lunged forward, she dodged aside, swept his sword away, and slashed at his shoulder.She came so close to him, so close, that she couldn't help laughing smugly.A lock of sweaty hair hung down, dangling in front of her eyes, and she pushed it away with the back of her hand.

"Left," Syrio called. "Down." His sword was so fast that he couldn't see clearly, and the clicking sound resounded through the small hall. "Left, left, up, left, right, left, down, left!" The sword stabbed very high and hit her chest.She was in excruciating pain, because the direction of the attack was completely wrong, and it caught her off guard. "Ouch!" she cried.It seems that by the time I sleep somewhere at sea tonight, my chest will probably be bruised.Every injury is a lesson, she told herself, and every lesson makes us stronger. Syrio backed away. "You're already dead."

Arya grimaced. "You cheated," she said angrily, "you said left but hit right instead." "That's it, you're a dead girl from now on." "But you 'lied'!" "My mouth is deceitful, but my eyes and hands are telling the truth, but you turn a blind eye." "There's nowhere I can see," Arya said, "I'm staring at you every second!" "Little sister who died, 'watching' does not mean 'insighting'. A water dancer must be able to see. Come on, put down the sword, and it's time to listen to the lesson."

She followed him to the wall and he sat down on the bench. "Syrio Forel can be the chief swordsman of Braavos Sea King, do you know why?" "Because you are the most powerful swordsman in the city." "That's it, but why me? There are many people stronger than me, faster than me, younger than me, why is Syrio Forel the strongest? Now let me tell you." He touched it with his fingertips Touched the eyelashes. "The trick is insight, insight into the truth of things." "Listen. Wherever the sea wind blows, Braavosi's ship goes. They have been to many strange places, and every time they return, the captain will sacrifice animals from far away to the sea king's menagerie. That is you All kinds of exotic animals that you have never seen before, such as striped horses, spotted things with necks like stilts, and hairy rat pigs as big as cows that sting manticores, tigers that pouch their cubs, and creepy lizards that walk around with scythe-like claws. Syrio Forel has seen them all."

"On the day I was talking about, the former chief swordsman had just passed away, and Aquaman passed me on, because according to the tradition of Braavos, an heir must be chosen immediately. Many killers have met him before, and all of them were sent away. , no one can tell why. When I went in, he sat peacefully, with a fat yellow cat lying on his lap, and he told me that it was a captain of his Isle brought it back to him. 'You've never seen an animal like her, have you?' he asked me." "And I said to him, 'I see thousands of his kind every night in the alleys of Braavos.' The Aquaman clapped his hands and laughed, and made me Chief Swordsman that very day."

Arya grimaced. "I don't understand." Syrio gritted his teeth. "It was just an ordinary cat. Others thought they were seeing exotic animals, so they saw only exotic animals. They said the cat was big, but the cat wasn't particularly big. But because it is delicious and lazy, Neptune often feeds it with things from his own table, so it is a little bit blessed. They also say that its ears are small and exquisite, but in fact it is just because a piece was bitten off when fighting with other cats. It is obviously a male cat. But Aquaman said 'her' and they believed it. Do you understand?"

Arya thought about it. "You have seen the truth of the matter." "That's it. The most important thing is to keep your eyes open. The heart can lie, the mind can fool us, only the eyes can see. See with your eyes, hear with your ears, taste with your mouth, smell with your nose, and You feel it with your skin, and think it with your head in the end, so that you can see the truth." "That's right." Arya grinned. Syrio Forel gave a rare smile. "I'm thinking, when we arrive at your home in Winterfell, it's almost time for you to use this sewing needle."

"Wonderful!" said Arya eagerly, "and then I'll show Jon—" With a bang, the big wooden door of the small hall behind her was knocked open, and Arya immediately turned around. A Kingsguard stood under the door arch, followed by five Lannister guards.He was fully armed, with only the visor of his helmet open.Arya had seen him when he had accompanied the king to Winterfell, and remembered his downcast eyes and his rust-colored moustache, and there was no doubt that it was Ser Meryn Tran.Red-cloaked guards wear leather vests and mail, and lion helmets. "Arya Stark," said the knight, "come with us, child."

Arya pursed her lips hesitantly. "What do you want me for?" "Your father wants to see you." Arya took a step forward, but Syrio Freer took her hand. "Why did Lord Ed not send his men, but the Lannister family? I'm curious." "Don't be ignorant, dance master," said Ser Meryn, "it's none of your business." "My father would not have sent you," Arya said, raising her wooden sword.The Lannister guard laughed. "Little sister, put down the stick," Ser Meryn told her. "I am a brother of the Kingsguard, a sworn White Knight."

"So did the Kingslayer who killed the old king," said Arya. "I don't want to go, I don't want to go with you." Ser Meryn Tran was impatient. "Grab her," he said to his men, and lowered his mask. The three guards came forward, and the chain mail made a crisp collision with every step they took.Arya was suddenly frightened.Fear hurts worse than swords, she told herself, slowing down her frantic heartbeat. Syrio Forel stepped forward and stood in the middle, tapping his boot with his wooden sword. "That's it. Are you humans or dogs, and you have the face to threaten children?"

"Go away, old man." A red-robed guard shouted. Syrio's stick went up with a whoosh and struck the man's helmet once. "I am Syrio Forel. From now on, you must speak to me with respect." "Bald-headed jerk." The visitor drew out his long sword.The wooden stick moved again, dazzlingly fast.Arya heard a clack, and the steel sword fell to the stone floor. "My hand." The guard screamed and held his broken finger. "You're fast for a dance teacher," said Sir Marlin. "You are too slow for a knight," Syrio shot back. "Kill the Braavosi and bring the little girl," the White Knight ordered. The four Lannister soldiers drew their swords one after another, and the one with the severed finger spat and drew his dagger with his left hand. Clenching his teeth, Syrio Forel clicked and slid out of the water dancer's pose, flanking the enemy. "Little Arya," he called, but he didn't look at her, never took his eyes off the Lannister guard. "That's the end of today's dance class. You'd better go and run to find your father." Arya didn't want to leave him, but he taught her to be obedient. "Fast as a deer," she whispered. "That's it," said Syrio Forel.Lannister soldiers surrounded him. Arya stepped back slowly, the wooden sword gripped tightly in her hand.Seeing Syrio's fighting posture, she realized that when he fights with her on weekdays, he is just playing casually.The red-robed warriors advanced on him from three sides with steel swords in their hands. Their chests and arms were protected by mail, and their shorts were sewn with metal knee pads, but their feet were only leather leggings, and their hands were exposed.Their helmets had nose guards, but no visors over their eyes. Syrio did not wait for them to approach, but dodged to the left.Arya could not have imagined that people could move so fast.He blocked one sword with his stick and spun around to avoid the second.The second person lost his center of gravity and staggered towards the previous person.Syrio kicked him in the back, and the two red-robed warriors fell into a ball.A third guard leaped over them and slashed at the water dancer's head with his sword.Syrio ducked down and lunged upwards.The guard screamed and fell to the ground. Where the left eye used to be, now there is only a bloody hole left. Those who fall prepare to get up.Syrio kicked one in the face, ripping off the other man's helmet.The man with the dagger stabbed at him, and Syrio caught his blow with his helmet, and smashed the man's knee with the club.The last red-robed warrior shouted and cursed, holding a sword in both hands, slashing violently and charging towards him.Syrio dodged to the right, and the helmetless man who was struggling to his feet suffered, the butcher's slash right where his shoulder and neck met.The sword sliced ​​through mail, leather, and flesh, and the man fell to his knees, screaming.Before his killer could draw his sword, Syrio had stabbed him in the throat.The guard let out a suffocating cry, staggered back, pinched his neck with his hands, and his face was ashen. By the time Arya reached the back door leading to the kitchen, five people were either dead or dying.She heard Ser Meryn Tran curse, "A bunch of wretches," and draw his sword. Syrio Forel resumed his fighting stance, teeth chattering. "Little Arya," he called without looking back, "go." See with your eyes, he just taught.So she saw: the knight is wearing a full body of heavy armor, the head, feet, throat, and arms are protected by steel armor, his eyes are hidden behind the pure white high helmet, and he holds a ferocious long steel sword.Back to Syrio: leather vest and wooden sword in hand. "Syrio, run!" she screamed. "The chief swordsman of Braavos never flees," he said loudly.Sir Marlin slashed at him with his sword, but Syrio dodged gracefully, and struck the knight with a white light from the stick in his hand.In one heartbeat, he struck the knight's temples, elbows, and throat, wood rattling the metal of helm, gauntlets, and gorge.Arya froze in place.Ser Meryn pressed on, and Syrio fell back.He blocked the first blow, dodged the second, and swung the third. But the fourth sword chopped off the stick at the middle, the sawdust flew, and the lead skeleton broke. Arya sobbed, stepped forward, and ran away. She rushed through kitchens and pantries, between cooks and waiters, too frightened to see anything.A baker's helper passed her with a wooden tray, and Arya knocked her over, spilling fresh-baked bread all over the floor.She walked around another fat butcher with a meat cleaver in his hand, blood all over his elbow, and looked at her with his mouth wide open in surprise, and vaguely heard shouts behind him. Everything Syrio Forel had ever taught was racing through her mind.Fast as a deer, quiet as a shadow.Fear hurts more than a sword.Fast like a snake, stop like water.Fear hurts more than a sword.Strong as a bear, fierce as a wolf.Fear hurts more than a sword.Those who are afraid of failure are sure to lose.Fear hurts more than a sword.Fear hurts more than a sword.Fear hurts more than a sword.She gripped the wooden sword tightly, her hands wet with sweat, and when she reached the stairs in the tower, she was out of breath.She froze for a while.up or down?Upstairs you'll pass the covered bridge that connects the Council Chambers to the Prime Minister's Tower, but they must have thought she was heading that way, yes, and didn't Syrio say to "surprise" her?So Arya went down, spiral after spiral, three steps at a time, skipping narrow steps.Until finally entering the spacious vaulted cellar, the surrounding ale barrels are piled up twenty feet high.The only source of light is a slanted narrow window on a high wall. The cellar is a dead end.There is no way out but the way she came in.She didn't dare to look back, and she didn't dare to stay here.By the way, she has to find her father and tell him what happened.Father will protect her. Arya slipped the wooden sword into her belt and began to climb, leaping from barrel to barrel, until she reached the window.She hooked her hands on the stone and pulled it up.The walls are three feet thick, and the windows are like a tunnel that slopes upwards and outwards.Arya twisted and crawled toward the skylight.When her head reached the height of the ground, she looked across the inner city towards the Prime Minister's Tower. The original solid wooden door was only splintered and dilapidated, as if it had been hacked with an axe.A dead man lay face down on the steps, his cloak under him, his mail shirt back covered in blood.She saw with sudden horror that it was a cloak of gray wool trimmed with white satin.But she couldn't see who it was. "How could this be?" she whispered.What happened?Where is the father?Why did the red-robed warrior come to arrest her?She recalled what the man with the yellow beard said the day she discovered the monster: Since one Prime Minister died, why can't the second one die?Arya's eyes filled with tears involuntarily.She listened with bated breath, and heard the sounds of fighting, shouting, wailing, and the clash of weapons coming from the windows of the Prime Minister's Tower. She can't go back.father he... Arya closed her eyes, too frightened to move for a moment.They killed Jory, Vail, and Howard, and the unknown guard on the stairs.Maybe they would kill her father too, and if she was caught, she might die too. "Fear hurts worse than a sword," she said aloud, but it was no use pretending to be a water dancer, and Syrio, who was a water dancer, was likely dead by the White Knight.She was just a scared, lonely little girl with only a wooden sword in her hand. She squeezed her body, climbed into the square, and looked around cautiously before standing up.The castle seemed to be empty, but the castle could never be empty.Everyone must have shut their doors and hid.Arya looked longingly at her bedroom, then shadowed along the wall and left the Prime Minister's Tower.She pretended that she was catching the cat... It's a pity that she was the one who was caught now, and if she was caught, she would definitely die. Arya made her way between the buildings and the high walls, keeping her back against the walls as much as possible to prevent surprise attacks, and finally arrived at the stables without incident.As she walked through the inner city, she saw a dozen gold-cloaked guards in full armor, mail and full plate, running past, but since she didn't know which side they were on, she crouched in the shadows and waited for them to pass. . Hullen, who had been Stable Master at Winterfell for as long as Arya could remember, lay sprawled on the ground by the stable door.He was stabbed so many times that his coat seemed to be embroidered with scarlet flowers.Arya was sure he was dead, but when she climbed in, he opened his eyes. "Arya the Trickster," he whispered, "you go . . . and warn . There were many dead bodies in the stables, including a stable boy she had played with, and three of her father's bodyguards.A carriage full of boxes and luggage was abandoned by the door.These men must have been preparing to ship their stuff to the docks when they were attacked.Arya stalks and discovers that one of the bodies is that of Desmond, who had shown her the sword and promised her that he would protect her father.With his back to the ground, he stared blankly up at the roof, flies crawling past his eyes.Beside him died a red Lannister warrior wearing a lion helmet.only one.Didn't Desmond tell her that "one northerner is worth ten southerners"? "You lied!" She suddenly burst into rage and kicked the corpse. The horses in the stable were terrified, neighing non-stop, and exhaling at the blood that choked their nostrils from time to time.All Arya thought was to saddle a horse and get away, far away.She could return to Winterfell as long as she followed the Kingsroad.So she took a pair of saddles and bridles from the wall. As she walked to the back of the carriage, an overturned box caught her attention.The box must have been knocked off during the fight, or dropped during transport.The wooden boards had been split, the lid of the box was lifted up, and things were spilled all over the floor.Arya sees silks and satins she's never worn, but maybe she'll need something warm for the trip...and... Arya knelt among the scattered clothes on the dirt floor.She found a heavy wool cloak, a velvet skirt and a silk tunic, some underwear, a dress her mother had made for her, and a silver bracelet to sell.She pushed open the cracked cover and rummaged through the suitcase for "sewing needles."She had hidden the sword at the very bottom of the box, but when the box fell it all messed up.Arya is suddenly terrified that someone will find the sword before her and steal it.Fortunately, her fingers touched the hard metal under the satin dress in no time. "So she's here." A voice screamed and approached her. Arya whirled in panic.I saw a stable boy standing in front of me, with an unnatural smile on his face, wearing a dirty leather vest and a dirty white jacket underneath, his boots were stained with manure, and he was holding a pitchfork in one hand. "Who are you?" she asked. "She doesn't recognize me," he said, "but I recognize her, hehe, yes, I recognize Little Wolf Girl." "Will you saddle me?" Arya begged, reaching into the box for a needle. "My father is the king's prime minister, and he will reward you." "Your father is dead," the boy said, moving closer to her. "It is the queen who will reward me. Little sister, come here." "Don't come here!" She held the needle by the hilt. "I told you to 'come here'." He grabbed her hand hard. In that fatal moment, all the moves that Syrio Forel had taught her disappeared without a trace.The only trick Arya remembered in that moment of terror was the one Jon Snow had taught her, the first one she had learned. She stabs her foe with the pointy end, thrusting upward with sudden, hysterical force. Needles pierced his leather vest and white belly and came out through his shoulder blades.The boy dropped the pitchfork, making a soft sound somewhere between an exclamation and a sigh.His hand grasped the sword. "Oh, my God," he moaned.His shirt started to turn red. "Pull it out." By the time she drew the sword, he was already dead. The horse neighed in panic.Arya stood beside the corpse, calm and terrified in the face of death.Blood gushed from the boy's mouth as he fell, and now more blood gushed from the gash in his stomach and pooled under the body.His palm holding the sword just now was also cut.She backed away slowly, holding a bloody sewing needle.She wanted to go, she had to go, she had to hide away from the accusing eyes of the stable boy. So she hastily grabbed the saddle and bridle, and ran to her mare.But just as she was saddling up to mount her horse, Arya thought suddenly with horror that the gates must be closed, and that the side gates were probably guarded.Maybe the guards didn't recognize her.If they took her for a boy, maybe they'd let her... no, they must have had orders to keep no one out, so it didn't matter if they recognized her or not. There is still a way out of the castle... The saddle slipped from Arya's fingers and landed on the dirt floor with a thud, sending up a cloud of dust.Does she still have to go find that room full of monsters?She wasn't sure, but she knew she had to try. She found the clothes she had just gathered, and pulled her cloak over to hide her needles.She tied the rest into a bundle, slipped the bundle under her arm, and slipped to the other end of the stable.She unlocked the back door and peeked out uneasily.There was the sound of sword strikes in the distance, and there was a dying man crying in the inner city.She had to go down the spiral staircase, through the kitchenette and the pig farm, which was the way she had taken the last time she had chased the black tom...but that would have gone right past the barracks of the gold cloaks, so it wouldn't work.Arya racked her brains for another escape route. If she crossed the other side of the castle, she could follow the wall on the river bank and walk through the little godswood... but she had to go beyond the eyes of the city guards first. This square. She had never seen so many people standing on the city wall at the same time.Most of them were golden robed warriors with guns, and some of them could recognize her at a glance.What would they do if they saw her running across the square?With the walls so far away, she must have looked like a little one, would they still be able to tell her?Would they bother with a little girl? She told herself she had to move now, but when it came time to actually do it, she was too scared to move. Still like water, a small voice rang in my ears.Arya was so startled that she almost dropped the thing on the floor.She looked around frantically, but there were only horses and dead people in the stables except her. Quiet as a shadow, the voice came again.She couldn't tell if it was her own voice or Syrio's, but somehow she grew less afraid. She took a step out of the stable. It was the scariest thing she had ever done in her life.She wanted to run away and find a place to hide, but she forced herself to "walk" the whole way, slowly, step by step, as if she had more time and had no need to be afraid.She felt their eyes crawling under her clothes like worms, but she didn't look up.Arya knew that if she saw them staring at her, all her courage would desert her, and she would drop her clothes and run away, crying like a baby.She just looked at the ground.By the time Arya reached the shadow of the royal sept at the other end of the square, she was in a cold sweat.Fortunately, no one noticed her, no one yelled. The sanctuary was empty, and inside, about fifty candles quietly emitted fragrance.Arya figured the gods wouldn't mind missing two.So she stuffed two into her sleeves and left through the back window.It was easy to sneak back to the alley where she blocked the one-eared tom before, but it was difficult to find the way afterwards.She crawled in and out, climbed over walls, groped in dark cellars.Quiet as a shadow.On the way, she also heard a woman crying.It took her more than an hour to find the narrow window that sloped down to the monster dungeon. She threw the package in first, then ran back quickly to light the candles.This is too thrilling.The charcoal fire she imagined had burned down to embers, and while she was busy blowing to revive it, she heard the sound of someone entering the room.She rushed out the window before they entered, caressing the flickering candle flame with her hands, before she even had time to catch a glimpse of who was coming. This time she was not afraid of those monsters at all, and even felt like old friends.Arya held the candle above her head, and with every step the shadows on the wall moved, as if they were turning to watch her. "So it's a dragon," she whispered.She drew a needle from inside her cloak.Although the slender blade looked small and the dragons looked huge, Arya finally felt safer with the sword in hand. The long, windowless hall behind the door was as dark as she remembered.She holds a sewing needle in her left hand and a candle in her right.Hot wax dripped down his knuckles.The path to that well is on the left, so Arya goes right.She wanted to run, but she was afraid of blowing out the candle.She heard the faint squeak of a mouse and saw a pair of small eyes glowing at the edge of the light.She is not afraid of mice, but other unknown things.In fact, she could just hide here, just like she hid from wizards and people with mustaches last time.She could almost see the stable boy standing by the wall, his hands curled into claws, blood still bleeding from the deep cuts on his palms.He was waiting for her to pass by.He could see her candlelight from afar.Maybe she'd better put out the fire... Fear hurts more than a sword, the silent voice in my head sounded again.Arya suddenly remembered the catacombs below Winterfell.She told herself that it was much scarier there than here.The first time she went there, she was a little girl.That time, his brother Robb led the team, with her, Sansa and little Bran, who was not as old as Rickon at that time.They carried only one candle, and Bran's eyes were wide as plates, fixed on the stone faces of the Kings of Winter, with direwolves at their feet and iron swords in their laps. Robb led them to the end of the corridor, past statues of Grandfather, Brandon, and Lyanna, and showed them their future graves.However, Sansa never dared to take her eyes off the burning candle, fearing that it would go out at any time.Old Nan had told her there were spiders down here, and rats as big as dogs.Robb just smiled when she told it. "There are worse things than spiders and rats," he whispered. "This is where the dead live." Just then they heard a low, trembling sound.Bran held onto Arya's hand tightly. When the ghost came out of the open tomb, moaning to suck the blood of the living, Sansa screamed and ran for the stairs, Bran hugged Robb's thigh and sobbed, and Arya stood still, thumping. Spooky.It was just Jon with flour all over him. "You fool," she told him, "look at you scaring your brother like this." But Jon and Robb just looked at each other and laughed, and it wasn't long before Bran and Arya followed suit. Arya couldn't help smiling, remembering the past.After that, the darkness is no longer scary.The stable boy is dead, and she killed him with her own hands. If he jumps out again, she will kill him again.She is going home.When she gets home, safe behind the gray marble walls of Winterfell, everything will be all right. Arya's footsteps echoed softly as she stepped ahead of her into the dark depths.