The hound's plan to exchange the gnomes for money is doomed to fail, after all, there are many more living people in the camp in a short time, and it is nothing in a short time, how can it not be discovered after a long time.

In fact, within an hour, a dazed Tyrion was overshadowed by Eddard. Stark "invited" him.

What they would say was self-evident, but Charles was not involved, and after watching the soldiers lock the hounds back to their stakes, he returned to his tent and began to think.

If the gnomes are right, wildfires can even light water, then what else is there in King's Landing that it can't ignite?

I kept thinking about this question, thinking of King's Landing, of the familiar or unfamiliar faces, of the filthy cheeks of reluctance and even despair when I left, and of the number of people in the entire King's Landing, who were no less than half a million.

Before I knew it, the scepter in my hand suddenly trembled.

A strong sense of responsibility came to mind.

"Am I obligated to save them?"

"Yes, I have an obligation."

"I have to save them!"

“……”

Under this sense of responsibility, impulsive thoughts began to emerge, and Charles looked down at the wooden scepter in his hand, and casually tossed it aside, and the feeling disappeared.

It's just that the real feeling still upsets him.

"Stark will definitely send someone, but maybe it's too late."

"I somehow arrived in the North the day before yesterday, and if I enter that state, will I be able to reach King's Landing in an instant?"

"How do I get in?"

"What would I do if I could?"

"And how can I save it?"

It's all something to think about, not just a pat on the butt and start doing it.

"But fantasy doesn't work."

Thinking of this, he made up his mind, and sat down on the bed, where he took the scepter in his hand again and forced himself into a deep sleep.

Probably "in a hurry", he had obviously experimented last night but found nothing, and now Charles was just dazed and hadn't really fallen asleep yet, when he felt the hazy darkness around him suddenly become clear.

When he opened his eyes, he saw that the surroundings had become the same as he had encountered that day.

"You're conscious." Looking down at the ordinary-looking wooden scepter, Charles whispered, "But maybe it's no different from an idiot." ”

The scepter shook with this.

"A great idiot."

So the jitter stopped.

Charles wondered what was in it, a real soul? Or is it the so-called machine spirit?

Or is it just a spirituality that comes naturally from countless prayers?

This question, like all other questions of Scepter, needs to be explored slowly, and now is not the time to think about it.

So he raised his eyes and looked in King's Landing.

The faint greenery over the city was originally a puzzle for Charles, but now it seems that it looks like a flame.

Green flames!

Wildfire is not pure mortal fire.

Charles came to this conclusion. He stared closely in the direction of King's Landing, thinking about how to solve this crisis, but gradually, a faint voice of supplication appeared in the bottom of his heart.

"Pray to the gods of heaven to save my wife, she ......"

The sound of prayer?

The prayer of King's Landing?

Same as last time?

Now is the time!

Golden flames burst into thin air, and in the blink of an eye, Charles was on a dirty street.

Under the dim sky, the garbage-strewn dirt streets dimmed in the moonlight, and the various "dead men" sitting on both sides of the streets ignored Charles's arrival, whispering to themselves as if they were eternal.

Not far away was a trembling old man leaning against the door frame, now with his hands folded, looking up at the sky and muttering to himself.

Charles stepped closer to him, then looked through the gap in the doorway to find his old wife, now lying unconscious on a hard bed in the house, with no children around.

Hyperpyrexia?

Walking into the house, looking at the old woman in front of her, and then at the old back at the door, Charles waved the scepter in his hand, and a milky white light fell on the old woman, and her tense face was soothed with the naked eye.

"Good luck."

Charles whispered a blessing, then slammed into the wall in front of him. Like a ripple, he walked from the house into an alley.

The surroundings were quite familiar, and after a little look, he found that this was a flea nest somewhere on the street, and he often passed by a while ago.

So Charles stumbled around and finally came to the door of a familiar mansion.

Through the walls, across the courtyard, and into the bedroom.

The gray-robed figures sleeping in their clothes came into view.

Young, old, familiar, strange.

In one of the rooms, he saw the leader of them, the old man, who was now lying in a long sleep on a hard bed, coughing occasionally unconsciously, as if infected with a cold.

Charles didn't have the idea of going up to say hello, he didn't seem to be able to say hello in this state, and after a few glances, he walked out of the room and into the courtyard.

"What should I do?"

He couldn't help but look at the staff of authority in his hand.

Returning to the city is not to "catch up", the presence of the wildfire has made Charles full of vigilance, and there is always a sense of urgency in his heart.

What do I need to do?

Thinking about this question, the colorful light appeared because of this, and when Charles saw this, he thought of everything that had happened last time, so he slowly spat out a few syllables:

"Protect the city from fire."

The light flickered, but nothing happened.

"Protecting Flour Street?"

"Protecting flea nests?"

"Protect this yard?"

……

"A lot of fire extinguishers?"

……

"Divert all wildfires!"

……

"Kill the one who lit the fire?"

……

"Find the wildfire hideout!"

……

"Turn this place into the sea?"

……

……

The light flickered one after another, but there was no response, and the target in his mouth kept shrinking, but the scepter's power proved to be much lower than he had expected.

"Long Jing."

The light flickered, but there was still no response.

"Flame Protection Secrets."

Still no response.

This made his brow furrow deeper.

After thinking for a moment, he said again: "Blank paper! ”

Colorful flashes, and finally, a thin piece of paper fluttered down from the top of his head, and Charles reached out and grabbed it, grasping it in his hand.

"Fountain pen."

It didn't work.

"Quill!"

A plush touch appeared in the palm of his hand, and when he looked down, he saw a brand new white quill pen held in his hand at the end – but there was no ink.

So he made another bottle of ink, and then set his eyes on the quill.

"Write a secret text!"

Void.

Sighing helplessly, he had to honestly spread the paper on the ground, and then squatted and began to write.

After about ten minutes, after expertly writing the flame protection secret, the Charr Scepter pointed to the paper covered in writing.

"Copy!"

Colorful light flashed, and something exactly the same appeared next to the original paper.

This made Charles breathe a sigh of relief, but then he became worried again.

In order for this secret text to take effect, it is necessary to have the cooperation of dragon crystals, but even if he goes back to get it, the dragon crystals he has are a drop in the ocean compared to the entire city - three dragon crystals are combined into a set, and one set can protect about a square area around the body, so how much does it take for the entire King's Landing?

It had been proven that he couldn't conjure dragon crystals out of thin air, and he couldn't instantly transfer a large amount of ore from Dragonstone Island to this ......

"Forget it, I'll do my best, find a way to notify the red-robed woman first, and tell them to evacuate the city or search for those wildfires as soon as possible."

Sighing, Charles strode in the direction of the Red Keep.

However, as he hurried on his way, he finally turned a corner and came to the street where the castle was located, and what he saw made Charles's heart sink sharply.

The Red Keep has changed hands!