The next morning, before dawn.
The air in the black cells was even heavier than yesterday, every speck of dust soaked with the impending bloodshed.
Everyone was drinking the rancid porridge, only Jaqen remained unmoved.
Soon, the prisoners were roughly driven out of their cells.
To prevent them from talking nonsense, their mouths were gagged with stones and bound with black cloth, then they were stuffed into a huge and sturdy cage cart like livestock waiting to be slaughtered.
That cage cart was more of a moving iron cage than a cart.
Garth stood outside the cage cart, no expression on his determined face unique to Northmen.
He just looked coldly at the twisted faces inside the iron cage.
"Good luck."
With that.
He waved his hand.
The wheels crushed over the flagstone road, making "creak creak" sounds, driving towards the docks outside King's Landing.
Inside the cage cart, deathly silence.
Everyone was ready to strike, staring fixedly at everyone around them, looking for the first opportunity to act.
That burly man with a scar on his face thought he was the strongest here.
He slowly stood up, trying to use his tall body to bring pressure to others.
Jaqen still shrank in the most inconspicuous corner.
He closed his eyes, as if indifferent to everything around him.
Just as Scarface was about to attack a weak prisoner closest to him, he suddenly felt dizzy.
The scene before his eyes began to spin, and his body became disobedient.
Thump.
Scarface fell heavily to the ground.
His body convulsed violently, white foam gushing from his mouth.
His fall was like a signal.
Other prisoners in the cage cart also showed the same symptoms one after another.
They fell one by one, like harvested wheat.
Everyone struggled painfully on the ground, but couldn't make a sound.
Their bodies were convulsing, eyes filled with fear and incomprehension.
None of them knew how they were hit.
Soon, only one person was still standing in the entire cage cart.
Jaqen H'ghar.
He slowly opened his eyes, calmly looking at this hell on earth before him.
He didn't even spare a glance for those "companions" rolling on the ground.
He didn't touch that bowl of rancid porridge this morning.
But this didn't prevent him from adding some "seasoning" to the pot.
Colorless and tasteless powder, mixed in the rancid porridge, was undetectable.
It would quickly invade the blood with human activity, paralyzing the nerves.
As for himself?
He had taken the antidote long ago.
Garth had been following beside the cage cart.
When he saw this eerie scene inside the cart, a trace of imperceptible horror flashed in his grey eyes.
He stopped the cage cart, stepped forward quickly, and opened the iron cage.
A strong stench of urine rushed over.
Garth looked at the twitching prisoners all over the floor, then at the only man standing unharmed.
"How did you do it?"
"A man has his ways."
Jaqen's voice was calm and waveless.
"Now, a man is ready to meet the employer."
Garth was silent for a moment, then nodded.
Several of his subordinates dragged those still-twitching prisoners off the cart like dead dogs, throwing them into a filthy stinking ditch by the roadside.
Just as he was about to let the Gold Cloaks swing their butcher knives, Jaqen stopped him.
"They won't die, but this poison will completely destroy them."
"For the rest of their lives, they will be idiots who can only drool and soil themselves."
Garth hesitated for a moment, still deciding to dispose of these people.
He couldn't cause even half a bit of potential trouble for Lord Lynn.
After dealing with these people, he took Jaqen in another direction.
Tower of the Hand.
When Jaqen was brought into that study filled with the smell of ink and paper, a barely perceptible fluctuation finally appeared on his face.
He had imagined countless possibilities.
His employer could be an ambitious noble.
Or a scheming eunuch.
Or even a prince wanting to usurp the throne.
But he never thought.
Planning such a shocking assassination of the King were actually two such young girls.
Sansa Stark.
Myrcella Baratheon.
One, the Hand's daughter, now Master of Coin.
The other, the King's daughter, now wife of that upstart Earl with a dragon.
Two women standing side by side at this moment.
This was much more interesting than he imagined.
Jaqen's gaze swept over their faces.
This setup was more complex than he expected.
But most importantly, these two women were inextricably linked to his true target, Lynn.
"Are you the one who survived?"
Sansa spoke first.
Jaqen bowed slightly.
"A man is ready to serve both ladies anytime."
"Very good."
Myrcella took a bundle from the side and threw it on the ground.
The bundle opened, inside was a uniform belonging to the guards of House Baratheon, embroidered with the crowned stag sigil.
"We want you to put on these clothes and kill Robert Baratheon."
Myrcella's voice carried a ruthlessness belonging to Lannisters.
"We will arrange for you to infiltrate the King's hunting party."
"After acting, you don't need to run."
Sansa continued.
"You will be caught on the spot, and then, you will tell everyone you were sent by Stannis Baratheon."
"You've seen our control over the black cells; our word is law."
"As long as you can return to the black cells alive, we will find a person of similar build as your substitute to die for you."
"In return, you and your family will get gold dragons you can't spend in a lifetime; you will never have to be a pathetic thief again."
An assassin, a scapegoat.
The plan was simple and brutal.
But also full of loopholes.
But for two girls blinded by hatred, this might be the best way they could think of.
Jaqen looked at the uniform on the ground, then at these two naive "employers" before him.
He shook his head slowly.
"What do you mean?"
A trace of killing intent flashed instantly in Myrcella's eyes.
With just one order from her, the group of Gold Cloaks outside would rush in and hack Jaqen to death.
"A man never kills a dying person."
Jaqen's voice was very soft.
"What did you say?"
"What do you mean by dying person?"
Sansa looked at him in disbelief.
"His Grace,"
Jaqen's gaze seemed able to penetrate walls, seeing the man suffering from a hangover in bed.
"He won't live long."
"He is a man poisoned with chronic lethal poison."
"A man has seen too many such people in Valyria."
"Tears of Lys, mixed in wine, accumulated over time."
"It will slowly corrode the internal organs, making one look like they died of excessive indulgence and alcoholism."
Jaqen's words plunged the entire study into deathly silence.
Sansa and Myrcella looked at each other.
They both saw deep shock in each other's eyes.
Robert... had already been poisoned?
By whom?
Cersei?
Varys?
Or Lynn?
Or some enemy hidden in the dark?
"So, 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 stupid, but will leave too many traces."
"An assassin wearing the uniform of Duke Stannis's guard?"
"This is too obvious, like telling everyone there is a conspiracy here."
"This will only make Lord Renly, Grand Maester Pycelle, or even the 'Spider' suspicious of Robert's cause of death."
Jaqen naturally knew why Robert would die.
Because it was Tywin who hired the House of Black and White to do it.
Jaqen's words woke up the two girls burned by the flames of revenge like cold water.
They realized then how childish and laughable their plan was.
Sansa's gaze turned cold.
"You haven't even seen Robert; how did you judge that!"
Jaqen smiled.
"A man cannot say; believe it or not, as you wish."
Sansa looked at this strange Jaqen before her; she felt she should immediately find Lynn to explain the situation!
Things seemed to have escaped their control.
"Then what should we do?"
Myrcella's voice carried frustration.
"Wait."
Jaqen spat out a word, then continued after a while.
"Wait for him to die himself."
"Wait for Grand Maester Pycelle to announce the King died of 'stroke on horseback,' or burst his stomach from drinking too much wine."
"No one will doubt it."
"Because he is such a person."
"But, can this frame Stannis?"
Sansa asked puzzledly.
As long as Lynn wanted to climb up, Stannis would inevitably be an enemy; this was a natural stance, unchangeable.
If they could undermine Stannis in advance, it would be beneficial and harmless to Lynn, even greatly helpful.
"The King's death is a fact."
"But who should be responsible for his death is a story."
A profound smile appeared on Jaqen's face.
"And a man is best at weaving stories."
"We don't need a clumsy assassin."
"We just need some... little 'evidence'."
"For example, a secret letter from Dragonstone that 'accidentally' fell into Lord Varys's hands."
"The letter can write about Duke Stannis's 'worry' for his brother's physical condition, and his emphasis on the 'legitimacy' of succession to the throne."
"For another example, a Dragonstone sailor drunk in a brothel 'inadvertently' revealing to his whore."
"Duke Stannis knew long ago the King's days were numbered and was preparing to raise troops to return to King's Landing."
"Because he put a little... special 'spice' from Dragonstone in the King's cup."
With every sentence Jaqen spoke, Sansa and Myrcella's eyes brightened a bit.
This man's plan was a hundred times more ingenious and a hundred times safer than theirs!
He didn't need swords, didn't need bloodshed.
He just needed a few lies, a few fabricated evidences, to weave a dragnet, trapping Stannis Baratheon firmly inside!
This was the real assassination!
Killing without form!
"Who are you exactly?"
Sansa looked at this unremarkable man before her, feeling a real chill for the first time.
"A man has no name."
Jaqen bowed slightly.
Seeing Jaqen unwilling to answer, the two didn't insist.
"Very good."
Myrcella looked at him, excitement flashing in her green eyes.
"What about your reward?"
"A man doesn't need gold dragons."
Jaqen looked up.
His gaze crossed the two girls.
"After the matter is done, a man needs to go to the North."
"And follow Lord Stark and Lord Lynn there together."
His request was unexpected to both.
Sansa and Myrcella looked at each other.
They both saw a trace of vigilance in each other's eyes.
This mysterious assassin, his ultimate goal didn't seem to be money.
But Lynn?
Why did he want to approach Lynn?
"Fine."
Sansa nodded.
"However, you need to seek Lord Lynn's consent for this matter first."
"We cannot decide on our own."
"Now, please go complete your task immediately!"
Regardless of this person's purpose, now, they needed his help.
"Pleasure doing business."
That profound smile appeared on Jaqen's face again.