In the midst of the religious gathering, a man clad in priestly garments stood, his face contorted by boundless rage. As anger consumed his thoughts, his visage turned a deep shade of crimson. Veins on his forehead bulged like angry serpents, throbbing with intensity.
The onlookers surrounding him stared in horror, their eyes wide with disbelief and fear. It was as if a storm of fury had taken hold of the man, and the atmosphere around him crackled with tension.
The figure on the raised dais was none other than the High Septon, the most revered member of the Seven-Pointed Stars Church. But at this moment, he was a stark contrast to the kind and understanding man people once knew.
With a visage contorted by hatred, the High Septon stood on the raised platform before the Believers of King's Landing. The silence in the crowd was palpable, heavy with the weight of their shock and disbelief as they witnessed their spiritual leader transforming into a furious figure, veins pulsating on his reddened face.
The High Septon's voice, filled with an intensity that seemed to shake the very walls of the Great Sept, bellowed out with venomous hatred.
"𝗦𝘁𝗮𝗻𝗻𝗶𝘀, 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗳𝗶𝗹𝘁𝗵𝘆!" he shouted with all the strength his lungs could muster. Then , he took a few deep breaths and slowly calmed himself before finally addressing the crowd that was gathered in front of him.
"My fellow brethren!" He bagan.
"I stand before you not as a mere priest but as the voice of our divine faith, the Seven Pointed Star, and the instrument of the gods' righteous judgment."
As the High Septon addressed the gathered crowd, his voice, initially calm, began to tremble with the weight of his anger. His eyes blazed with righteous fury as he continued to speak, his words carrying a fervor that stirred the hearts of those who listened.
"Today, I address you in a time of great darkness, a time when a serpent of divine decree has slithered into our midst, threatening the very fabric of our beliefs and the blessed rule of King Joffrey."
His voice grew louder, each word echoing through the square, a proclamation of his unwavering faith and fervent devotion to the gods. The crowd watched in rapt attention, their expressions shifting from curiosity to shared anger.
"𝗦𝘁𝗮𝗻𝗻𝗶𝘀 𝗕𝗮𝗿𝗮𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗼𝗻, you who are not worthy of your name! I accuse you of being a 𝗵𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗻, a
𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲𝘁𝗶𝗰, and the greatest abomination to walk the face of the earth!"
The High Septon's voice rose to a crescendo, his anger radiating from him like a palpable force. His body seemed to quiver with the intensity of his emotions, and his hands clenched into fists.
"𝗬𝗼𝘂, 𝘄𝗵𝗼 𝗱𝗮𝗿𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝗱𝗲𝗳𝘆 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗴𝗼𝗱𝘀' 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 by laying claim to the Seven Kingdoms when their divine decree clearly anointed King Joffrey as the rightful ruler."
The words spilled forth like molten steel, searing the hearts of the onlookers. The High Septon's face contorted with boundless hatred as he denounced the heretic who threatened their sacred beliefs.
"And what has been the result of this heretical defiance? Death, suffering, and sorrow have swept through our land.
𝘽𝙪𝙩 𝙛𝙚𝙖𝙧 𝙣𝙤𝙩, for King Joffrey, in his boundless mercy and wisdom, has taken it upon himself to 𝗰𝗹𝗲𝗮𝗻𝘀𝗲 our realm of 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗶𝗻!
Yes, my brethren, it is the duty of all true believers to stand united against this heretic..."
As the High Septon's voice reached its peak, he raised his arms to the heavens, his eyes filled with divine zeal. The crowd roared in agreement, their faith in their leader unwavering.
"𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗴𝗼𝗱𝘀 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝘄𝗮𝘁𝗰𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴, 𝗺𝘆 𝗳𝗿𝗶𝗲𝗻𝗱𝘀. 𝗧𝗵𝗲𝘆 𝘀𝗲𝗲 𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗱𝗲𝘃𝗼𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻, 𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝘂𝗻𝘄𝗮𝘃𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗳𝗮𝗶𝘁𝗵, 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘆 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝗰𝗵𝗼𝘀𝗲𝗻 𝗞𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗝𝗼𝗳𝗳𝗿𝗲𝘆 𝗮𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗶𝗿 𝘃𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗲𝗹 𝘁𝗼 𝗯𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗱𝗶𝘃𝗶𝗻𝗲 𝗷𝘂𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗰𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗱!"
The crowd hung on his every word, their hearts aflame with righteous purpose.
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"𝗟𝗲𝘁 𝘂𝘀 𝗿𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝘁𝗼𝗴𝗲𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿, 𝗹𝗲𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗳𝗹𝗮𝗺𝗲𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝗲𝗼𝘂𝘀 𝗮𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗿 𝗯𝘂𝗿𝗻 𝗶𝗻 𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗿𝘁𝘀, 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗹𝗲𝘁 𝘂𝘀 𝗰𝗮𝘀𝘁 𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲𝘁𝗶𝗰, 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝘀𝗲𝗿𝗽𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝗼𝗳 𝗱𝗶𝘃𝗶𝗻𝗲 𝗱𝗲𝗰𝗿𝗲𝗲, 𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺 𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗺𝗶𝗱𝘀𝘁"
With fiery eyes and voices raised in unity, the crowd began to chant, "𝗙𝗼𝗿 𝗞𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗝𝗼𝗳𝗳𝗿𝗲𝘆! 𝗙𝗼𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗴𝗼𝗱𝘀! 𝗙𝗼𝗿 𝗷𝘂𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗰𝗲!" The collective power of their voices seemed to shake the very foundations of the city.
In the midst of this fervent assembly, the High Septon descended from the dais and moved among the crowd, offering blessings and encouragement. His words were like fuel to the flames of their devotion, stoking their righteous anger to even greater heights.
The air was charged with an electric energy as the faithful believers of King's Landing, emboldened by the High Septon's fiery sermon, prepared to march forth and defend their divine king and the faith of the Seven Pointed Star, should they be needed.
As the crowd began to disperse, filled with a renewed sense of purpose, the High Septon stood before the Great Sept, gazing up at the heavens. He felt the divine presence of the gods surrounding him, guiding his every word and action.
With a final prayer on his lips, he knew that the battle against the Filthy heretic would be easy, and he and his faithful followers were prepared to do whatever it took to cleanse the realm of this abomination and secure the reign of their beloved King Joffrey...
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Negary pov :
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'Maybe I overdid it a little bit...' I thought as I watched my pawn finish his insane speech. It wasn't really his fault, since I made sure to whisper bullshit in his ears quite often , giving him some ,,divine truth,, .
'Anyway, at least he is an obedient madman, and as such he gets to keep on living...'
After the speech finished, I started slowly floating my soul form upwards , phasing through the roof the Great Sept to get a good view of the whole city.
From the pinnacle of the High Sept, one could observe the teeming ant-like populace of King's Landing. They scurried about with a peculiar sense of purposelessness, each individual seemingly oblivious to the grand charade they enacted daily. The city streets, a chaotic maze of narrow alleys and foul-smelling markets, were like a theater of the absurd where the actors pretended to be busy but achieved nothing of true significance.
The imposing city walls, constructed haphazardly from mere rocks stacked upon one another, were hardly the bastions of impenetrable defense they pretended to be. One couldn't help but wonder if the invaders outside found their claims of grandeur equally laughable. The Red Keep, with its crimson façade, stood as a relic of a bygone era, an empty shell of a once-proud dynasty, now little more than a decorative backdrop for the farcical drama unfolding within its walls.
Even the Sept of Baelor, with its seven towering spires, was a monument to the absurdity of religious fervor, a testament to the gullibility of the masses who sought solace in rituals and dogma. Its gleaming white marble seemed to mock the very notion of divine intervention, as if the gods themselves indulged in a cosmic joke at the expense of the faithful.
In the distance, Blackwater Bay shimmered in the sunlight, a tranquil façade belying the treacherous currents and political machinations that flowed beneath its surface. The city's coastal location, once heralded as strategic, now served as a reminder of the futility of geography in the face of human folly.
The grandeur of King's Landing was but a mirage, a self-aggrandizing illusion perpetuated by those who reveled in their own delusions of importance. The city, with all its pomp and pretense, was a far cry from the epicenter of power it claimed to be, a theater of absurdity where the players danced to the whims of fate, oblivious to the futility of their endeavors...
"Hahaha..."
I couldn't help but laugh at myself for entertaining such cynical thoughts, even for a single moment.
It was easy to sit here, looking down upon the bustling city, and pass judgment on the folly of its inhabitants.
It was all too convenient to distance oneself from the world's complexities and mock the actions of others. All to easy to get lost in the feeling of power my new existence tried to impose on me and forget that all are equal on the mountain that is life...
But deep down, I knew that meaning could be found in even the darkest and most chaotic recesses of existence.
'But enough philosophy for now' I thought as I shifted my gaze towards the Blackwater Bay.
A sturdy Westerosi merchant ship had just set sail from the bustling harbor of King's Landing, its sails unfurled to catch the brisk sea breeze as it glided across the dark waters of the Bay.
As it continues making its way eastward, in the future, it would pass by Dragonstone, navigate the treacherous Narrow Sea and eventually reach the eastern coast of Essos...And this whole trip could take from anywhere from one month to as much as three...
"Fucking middle ages..." I said amusedly as I started flying towards the Royal caravan that left the city a few hours prior. The split-soul that was currently in the Capital (collecting some snacks for the journey towards the North) was the one that usually possessed the Joffrey flesh golem, my other split soul having already left towards Essos with Barristan since yesterday.
'I almost feel pity for the old knight...but I'm sure he will enjoy his vacation'
My current state was quite weird , allowing me to experience being at two different places at the same time , while also being able to think about two completely unrelated topics.
For example , my other split soul was currently doing it's damn hardest to become a tree, using soul concealment to it's absolute utmost capabilities to try to remain undetected by the other players of the game...
If this strategy will bear fruit, well...only time will tell..
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As I soared above the King's Road, my keen eyes scanned the winding path below. The vast landscape of Westeros stretched out before me, a tapestry of fields, forests, and hills.
It was a serene view, one that seemed untouched by the politics and intrigue of the realm. But then, in the distance, I spotted a procession making its way along the road. It was the Royal Caravan, unmistakable with its banners and the gleam of armor.
At the head of this procession, none other than Jaime, the man of the hour, now Captain of the King's Guard. His golden hair and shining armor were unmistakable. Side by side with Jaime was the ever-stoic Ned. The two chatted happily as the caravan moved on towards their destination.
And, of course, the Royal Carriage itself, drawn by noble steeds with no say in the matter.
Inside, two delicate flowers – Arya and Sansa Stark – blossomed in their gilded prison. Alongside them was Cersei who was there because I didn't trust her to not kill Tyrion out of spite while I was away.
And in their midst, the cherry on top, my ,,sleeping,, flesh golem, gracing the world with its catatonic presence.
As I observed this grand procession, the world continued to spin with its intricate web of power and deceit. I couldn't help but chuckle at the audacity of it all, where appearances were everything, and the game played on, each piece moved with careful calculation and a dash of irony.
And while I controlled my other half to hide itself while sailing towards Essos...I had some things to do in the North as well...
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A.N :
"If you're going through hell,
at least act like you own the place."