The next morning, it was still dark.
The air in the Black Cells was even heavier than yesterday, every speck of dust permeated with the impending bloodbath.
Everyone was drinking sour porridge, only Jaqen was unmoved.
Soon, the prisoners were roughly driven out of their cells.
To prevent them from speaking out, their mouths were stuffed with stones and bound with black cloth, then like a flock of livestock awaiting slaughter, they were crammed into a huge and sturdy prison wagon.
That prison wagon was less a wagon and more a mobile iron cage.
Garss stood outside the prison wagon, his stoic face, characteristic of a Northerner, devoid of any expression.
He just coldly watched the twisted faces inside the iron cage.
"Good luck to you all."
After he finished speaking, he waved his hand.
The wheels rumbled over the flagstones, making a "creak, creak" sound, heading towards the docks outside King's Landing.
Inside the prison wagon, there was a deathly silence.
Everyone was poised, staring intently at everyone around them, looking for the first opportunity to strike.
The brawny man with a knife scar on his face, he considered himself the strongest here.
He slowly stood up, trying to use his tall physique to intimidate the others.
Jaqen still huddled in the most inconspicuous corner.
He had his eyes closed, as if indifferent to everything around him.
Just as the scar-faced man was about to move on a scrawny prisoner closest to him, he suddenly felt a dizzy spell.
The scene before him began to spin, and his body became disobedient.
With a "thud."
The scar-faced man fell heavily to the ground.
His body convulsed violently, and white foam gushed from his mouth.
His collapse was like a signal.
The other prisoners in the wagon also began to show the same symptoms, one after another.
They fell one by one, like wheat being cut down.
Everyone struggled painfully on the ground, but couldn't make a sound.
Their bodies twitched, their eyes filled with fear and confusion.
None of them knew how they had been poisoned.
Soon, only one person was left standing in the entire prison wagon.
Jaqen Hghar.
He slowly opened his eyes and calmly looked at the hellish scene before him.
He didn't even spare a glance at his "companions" rolling on the ground.
He hadn't touched the bowl of sour porridge that morning.
But that didn't stop him from adding some "flavorings" to the pot.
The colorless and tasteless powder, mixed in the sour porridge, was completely undetectable.
It would quickly invade the bloodstream and paralyze the nerves as the body moved.
As for himself?
He had already taken the antidote.
Garss had been following beside the prison wagon.
When he saw the eerie scene inside the wagon, a hint of undetectable horror flashed in his gray eyes.
He stopped the prison wagon and quickly stepped forward to open the iron cage.
A strong stench of foulness wafted out.
Garss looked at the convulsing prisoners on the ground, then at the only man standing unharmed.
"How did you do that?"
"A man has his own ways."
Jaqen's voice was calm and unwavering.
"Now, a man is ready to meet his client."
Garss was silent for a moment, then nodded.
The several subordinates he brought dragged the still-convulsing prisoners off the wagon like dead dogs and threw them into a dirty, stinking ditch by the roadside.
Just as he was about to let the Gold Cloaks swing their blades, Jaqen stopped him.
"They won't die, but this poison will completely destroy them."
"For the rest of their lives, they will be drooling, incontinent idiots."
Garss hesitated for a moment, but still decided to dispose of these people.
He couldn't cause any potential trouble for Lord Lynn.
After dealing with these people, he led Jaqen in another direction.
The Tower of the Hand.
When Jaqen was led into the study filled with the smell of ink and paper, a subtle ripple finally appeared on his face.
He had imagined countless possibilities.
His employer might be an ambitious noble.
Or perhaps a eunuch full of schemes.
Or even a prince wanting to usurp the throne.
But he had never thought that the mastermind behind such a shocking case as the assassination of His Majesty the King would be two such young girls.
Sansa Stark.
Myrcella Baratheon.
One was the daughter of the Hand, now the master of coin.
The other was the daughter of His Majesty the King, now the wife of that new noble count with dragons.
The two women stood side by side at this moment.
This was much more interesting than he had imagined.
Jaqen's gaze swept over their faces.
This game was more complex than he had anticipated.
But most importantly, these two women were inextricably linked to his true target, Lynn.
"You are the one who survived?"
Sansa spoke first.
Jaqen bowed slightly.
"A man is always ready to serve the two of you."
"Very good."
Myrcella picked up a package from beside her and threw it on the ground.
The package came undone, revealing a uniform belonging to a House Baratheon guard, embroidered with the crowned stag sigil.
"We want you to put on this uniform and kill Robert Baratheon."
Myrcella's voice carried a Lannister ruthlessness.
"We will arrange for you to infiltrate His Majesty the King's hunting party."
"After you act, you don't need to escape."
Sansa continued.
"You will be caught on the spot, and then you will tell everyone that you were sent by Stannis Baratheon."
"You've seen our control over the Black Cells; what we say goes."
"As long as you return to the Black Cells alive, we will find someone of similar build to be your substitute, to die in your place."
"In return, you and your family will receive enough gold dragons to last a lifetime, and you will never have to be a pathetic thief again."
An assassin, a scapegoat.
The plan was simple and crude.
But it was also full of holes.
Yet for two girls consumed by hatred, this was perhaps the best plan they could conceive.
Jaqen looked at the uniform on the ground, then at his two naive "employers" before him.
He slowly shook his head.
"What do you mean?"
A hint of murderous intent flashed in Myrcella's eyes instantly.
With a single command from her, the Gold Cloaks outside would rush in and cut Jaqen down.
"A man never kills a dying man."
Jaqen's voice was very soft.
"What did you say?"
"What do you mean by a dying man?"
Sansa looked at him in disbelief.
"His Majesty the King,"
Jaqen's gaze seemed to penetrate the walls, seeing the man lying in bed, hungover.
"He won't live much longer."
"He is a man poisoned with a slow-acting poison."
"A man has seen too many such people in Valyria."
"Tears of Lys, mixed in wine, accumulating day by day."
"It slowly corrodes the internal organs, making it appear as if one died from excessive indulgence and alcoholism."
Jaqen's words plunged the entire study into a deathly silence.
Sansa and Myrcella exchanged glances.
They both saw deep shock in each other's eyes.
Robert... has already been poisoned?
Who did it?
Cersei?
Varys?
Or Lynn?
Or some hidden enemy in the shadows?
"Therefore, your plan is superfluous."
Jaqen continued.
"Sending an assassin to kill a dying man is like sending a warship to crush an ant."
"Not only is it foolish, but it will leave too many traces."
"An assassin wearing Duke Stannis's guard uniform?"
"That's too obvious, it's like telling everyone there's a conspiracy."
"This will only make Duke Renly, Grand Maester Pycelle, and even The Spider, suspicious about Robert's death."
Jaqen, of course, knew why Robert would die.
Because Tywin had hired the Faceless Men to do it.
Jaqen's words sobered the two girls, who had been scorched by the flames of revenge.
Only then did they realize how childish and ridiculous their plan was.
Sansa's gaze turned cold.
"You haven't even met Robert, how did you determine that!"
Jaqen smiled.
"A man cannot say; whether you believe it or not is up to the two of you."
Sansa looked at this eerie Jaqen before her, and she felt a genuine chill for the first time.
She felt she should immediately find Lynn and explain the situation!
Things seemed to have spiraled out of their control.
"Then what should we do?"
Myrcella's voice was filled with frustration.
"Wait."
Jaqen uttered a single word, then after a pause, continued.
"Wait for him to die on his own."
"Wait for Grand Maester Pycelle to announce that His Majesty the King died from 'a stroke in the saddle' or from drinking too much wine and bursting his belly."
"No one will suspect anything."
"Because that's just the kind of man he is."
"But, can this be pinned on Stannis?"
Sansa asked, puzzled.
If Lynn wanted to rise, Stannis would inevitably be an enemy; it was a natural position, unchangeable.
If they could frame Stannis in advance, it would be beneficial and harmless to Lynn, even greatly helpful.
"His Majesty the King's death is a fact."
"But who is responsible for his death is a story."
A profound smile appeared on Jaqen's face.
"And a man excels at weaving stories."
"We don't need a clumsy assassin."
"We only need some... small 'evidence'."
"For example, a secret letter from Dragonstone that 'accidentally' fell into Lord Varys's hands."
"The letter could mention Duke Stannis's 'concern' for his brother's health and his emphasis on the 'legitimacy' of his claim to the throne."
"Or, for example, a Dragonstone sailor, drunk in a brothel, 'unintentionally' revealing to his prostitute that Duke Stannis already knew His Majesty the King's days were numbered and was preparing to raise an army to return to King's Landing."
"Because he put a little bit of... a special'spice' from Dragonstone into His Majesty the King's wine glass."
With every sentence Jaqen spoke, Sansa's and Myrcella's eyes brightened a bit more.
This man's plan was a hundred times more ingenious and a hundred times safer than theirs!
He didn't need swords, he didn't need bloodshed.
He only needed a few lies, a few fabricated pieces of evidence, to weave a vast net, trapping Stannis Baratheon firmly within it!
This was true assassination!
Killing without a trace!
"Who exactly are you?"
Sansa looked at this unassuming man, and for the first time, she felt a genuine chill in her heart.
"A man has no name."
Jaqen bowed slightly.
Seeing that Jaqen was unwilling to answer, the two did not press further.
"Very good."
Myrcella looked at him, her green eyes sparkling with excitement.
"What is your reward?"
"A man does not need gold dragons."
Jaqen raised his head.
His gaze passed over the two girls.
"After the deed is done, a man needs to go to the North."
"And also to accompany the Stark and Lord Lynn."
His request surprised both of them.
Sansa and Myrcella exchanged glances.
They both saw a hint of wariness in each other's eyes.
This mysterious assassin's ultimate goal seemed not to be money.
But Lynn?
Why did he want to approach Lynn?
"Alright."
Sansa nodded.
"However, you need to first obtain Lord Lynn's consent for this matter."
"We cannot act on our own."
"Now, please go and complete your task immediately!"
Regardless of this person's motives, for now, they needed his help.
"Pleasure working with you."
A profound smile once again appeared on Jaqen's face.
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