The dwarf groggily opened his eyes and found himself in a warm, comfortable beige bedroom. There were no candles on the windowsill, only a fireplace across the room where embers glowed and dimmed intermittently.
He tried to move, only to discover that every part of his body ached. The pain was especially intense in his groin, as if someone had taken a plane and shaved the skin off him. The agony was unbearable.
Moreover, he felt like an old ox that had plowed the fields for three days and nights straight, completely drained of strength.
"Water… give me water!" He parted his cracked lips and called out weakly.
"You're awake?" The plump eunuch Varys moved like a cat, silent and light, as he walked in from the outer room to the bedside.
"Water, I'm thirsty," said the dwarf.
Varys went out and returned with a pot of warm fresh milk.
"You drank so much the day before yesterday. How are you still thirsty?"
"Pfft—ugh!" With that single remark, the eunuch opened the floodgates of the dwarf's memory. Countless horrifying images and sensations surged back into his mind.
He remembered what he had drunk, and he couldn't help but vomit up the milk he had just swallowed.
"Tell me… it was just a nightmare," the dwarf pleaded, his voice trembling.
"Sigh, it's all over now. Just treat it as a dream," Varys said, pouring him another cup of milk.
"Help me change it to water," the dwarf said, wiping away his tears.
"You've been unconscious for two or three days and haven't eaten anything. Milk will give you strength," Varys advised.
The dwarf picked up the cup and gulped it down, drinking three large cups in succession.
"Burp~~~" As he let out a full belch, Varys, standing nearby, caught a faint smell of excrement.
The eunuch's face twisted slightly.
After taking a few breaths, the dwarf felt as though he had come back to life, his strength gradually returning.
He propped himself up and leaned against the headboard. "How did I survive?" he asked.
"We were puzzled too. You struggled in the sea for more than ten minutes and still didn't drown."
The dwarf shook his head. "I mean, who saved me? My body has been modified by dragonworms. My internal organs were the first to be transformed."
"I see," the plump eunuch exclaimed, then recounted what had happened that afternoon two days ago.
"At first, Master Qizang and Stark both thought the crocodile demon was behind it. They immediately killed the crocodile that was enjoying the king's blood beneath the altar.
Blood Child Stark even killed more than a dozen court priests.
But after returning, when we thought it over carefully, we felt we might have wronged the crocodile demon.
If it had ordered the black-haired evil god to ambush the scripture bearers, it wouldn't have stayed so quietly in the sea. At the very least, it would have had the priests arrange guards to ambush us.
But that wasn't the case. Those priests were completely unprepared."
"Unfortunately, what's done is done. Whether or not it was its scheme, it has to take the blame now. Otherwise, how would we explain it to the people of Pentos?" the eunuch sighed.
"You mean the evil god in the cesspit wasn't targeting me specifically?" the dwarf asked, puzzled.
"I was attacked too." The eunuch glanced at his own crotch and said self-mockingly, "Even a eunuch has his advantages. The evil god couldn't grab my manhood, so it only left a few bloody scratches on my backside. But I reacted quickly and escaped.
I think whoever went to the toilet at that time would have been attacked. You were just unlucky. Yours is too sturdy. That force even crushed the oak floor."
Hearing this, the dwarf once again recalled what had happened two days ago.
Pain!!!
At the time, the pain was so intense it nearly drove his soul out of his body. Even now, it still hurt so much that he felt as if he might fade from existence.
"Those three evil gods got off too easily. Matthew should have kept them alive, flayed them, broken their bones piece by piece, tortured them to death, and then thrown their souls into hell to suffer for a hundred billion years," the dwarf said through gritted teeth.
"What's the use of saying that now? They're dead," Varys replied indifferently.
Tyrion fell silent for a moment, then frowned. "How did they know we were going to the toilet? There's more than one in the palace. Could there be an insider deliberately guiding us there?"
"The Pentosi interrogated the eunuch who led us to the toilet. He knew nothing. He just chose the public latrine closest to the altar," Varys said.
"Did you send word to the Queen? What did she say?" the dwarf asked.
"She told us to be more careful in our daily lives. Demons, monsters, seductive disguises, traps and schemes are all common. After all, spreading the scriptures in the East isn't easy. It's hard to achieve great results."
"Just those perfunctory words meant to brush off others?" the dwarf raised his voice. "I nearly lost my life!"
"She did explain some of the reasons. The situation in the Yi lands isn't very good." Varys sighed and recounted the matter of the Three Emperors issuing proclamations, the eighteen great sects, thirty-six rebel kings, seventy-two bands of outlaws, and one hundred and eight strongholds.
"No one expected that establishing a mere state religion and appointing a national teacher would provoke such a huge reaction from the extraordinary factions in Yi.
But upon reflection, it's reasonable.
In Westeros, the Faith of the Seven is the state religion, and the High Septon is essentially an official High Priest. Aside from the Faith, other religions have no room to survive."
After a pause, Varys added strangely, "I heard that those more than two hundred rebel lords claim to have a million troops and vow to flatten Yidu Bu and slaughter everyone in the Jade Sea who believes in the demonic cult.
And by 'demonic cult,' they mean our Faith of the Seven."
"So the rebels plan to intercept us midway? But even a powerful dragon can't suppress local forces. How could the Yi people have the ability to act so boldly in Pentos, tens of thousands of miles away?" the dwarf frowned.
"The Queen is puzzled as well. She's having Mage Quaithe investigate the matter," Varys said.
"A million troops, and we're still going to Yi?"
"A million troops? Do you really think that's possible?" Varys scoffed.
"Even if it's only one-tenth, that's still a hundred thousand."
"Perhaps. But we don't need to worry." Varys sounded confident. "If it were a single force, one lord leading a hundred thousand troops, Yidu would definitely fall.
But there are more than two hundred factions. Even I, who know nothing about warfare, can tell that they're nothing more than a disorganized rabble."
"That makes sense," the dwarf nodded in agreement, then sighed. "There's just one issue. Our side's Heavenly Son Bu seems even worse."
"That's precisely why it's our chance to shine. The Dragon Queen is unmatched in wisdom, but if you stay with her, you'll only ever be a Wildfire General or Prince of Gene," Varys said softly.
"That's true." The dwarf forced a smile and gathered his spirits.
After a while of silence, Tyrion remembered the other members of the scripture-bearing team.
"Where are Matthew and the others?"
Varys stood up. "Can you get out of bed?"
The dwarf slipped into his slippers and slowly stood up. After taking a few steps with a grimace, he spread his legs slightly to give his sensitive groin some room to move without friction.
Varys supported him to the balcony.
Only then did Tyrion realize that his residence was atop a magnificent tower, thirty to forty meters above the ground, near the city center, overlooking a main road below.
Facing the howling cold wind and gazing over the dim land, nearly half of Pentos lay before him. Most buildings were square red-brick houses with blue-tiled roofs. Lights from countless homes flowed out through windows and doors like stars in the night sky.
"We're at Jacob's house. Look over there." Varys pointed in a direction. It was a three-story brick building covering four to five hundred square meters. On the steps before its arched gate, an old man in a brocade robe held up a sphere of holy light, speaking loudly to hundreds or thousands of people gathered in the square below.
"That building by the street is the Great Sept of Pentos. I bought it from Jacob for thirty thousand gold dragons."
"Qizang is preaching? There are quite a lot of listeners, at least a thousand," the dwarf said in surprise.
"They're giving out indulgences for free, and people can witness holy light. A thousand is actually very few," Varys sighed.
"We've only been here a few days. If faith can change so easily, it doesn't seem very valuable," Tyrion said dismissively.
"But we won't be staying for long before continuing our journey," Varys replied.
"Have we obtained the travel permit? Didn't you say the prince died?"
"After what happened, the Pentosi can't wait for us to leave," Varys said with a smile.
"Killing their gods and priests…" Tyrion shook his head with a bitter smile. "I thought it would cause a huge uproar."
Varys smiled. "Those who hold real power are the trade princes. They come from different nations and have their own beliefs. They don't feel much attachment to the local 'God of Land and Sea.'
The trade princes don't even care about the King of Pentos, let alone a god that means little to them.
Many people did die that day, but they were all priests. Not a single noble was harmed. But if they provoke us, and the Dragon Queen next door flies into a rage, they won't be able to keep even a single hair on their heads."
After recuperating in Pentos for another three days, Tyrion mostly recovered, though he discovered that his magical power had permanently decreased by forty percent.
"The three evil gods used blood sorcery to drain your essence in turns. It's already fortunate that you survived," Master Qizang explained to his disciple.
At the end, he comforted him, saying, "Magic is only a minor path. As long as your faith is devout enough, a single blessing from the Holy Mother surpasses centuries of cultivation."
He even used himself and Arya as examples. "On the day the Sept in Pentos was completed, when I consecrated the statue of the Holy Mother, divine grace descended upon us."
"If such a good thing happened, why didn't you call me?" Tyrion exclaimed.
"You couldn't even get out of bed, and it wouldn't have mattered anyway. I didn't gain anything either," Varys lamented.
Afterward, Tyrion used a glass candle to contact the Holy Mother herself and was told the reason: no reward without merit.
Saint Matthew's "Mercy of the Holy Mother" divinity doubled, granting him the divine ability "Heavenly Father's Fiery Eyes." Arya's death divinity increased by twenty percent, granting her the basic "Warrior's Sword" divine ability. The Hound gained one thousand divine spell slots, also receiving the basic "Warrior's Sword" ability.
Varys had participated in building the Sept and had recruited followers and preached in the streets several times. If he had been a priest, he would have received a thousand spell slots as well, but his devotion was insufficient.
The dwarf had done nothing and contributed nothing, so he received no reward.
He only lamented the suffering he had endured for nothing, failing to notice the hidden message: the Heavenly Father had appeared.
Indeed, just a few hours after the Dragon Queen sent off the scripture-bearing team, a large amount of divinity and spiritual essence suddenly entered the faith space.
At that time, she was leading a volunteer force hunting White Walkers in the Riverlands. The sudden influx of massive divinity and spiritual essence left her stunned on the spot, more shocked than delighted.
She had only just sent them off… Even the real Tang Monk's scripture team wouldn't attract this much hatred.
Before she could recover from her shock, a second wave of divinity arrived less than ten minutes later.
And that was not the end, but only the beginning. Over the next few days, more waves of divinity continued to arrive. Daenerys was left completely dumbfounded.
"I've been in Essos for many years. How did I never realize there were so many demons and monsters here?"
(End of Chapter)
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