House of The Dragon:The Rise of the Emperor of the Seven Kingdoms

Chapter 164: Chapter 163 – The Great Council of King’s Landing (II)

As the Sept of Remembrance had been burned by Maegor and the Dragonpit built in its place, the Faith of the Seven had to build another Sept, but this one was nowhere near as imposing as the previous one, not to mention its location was also inferior. It was hardly even worthy of being called a Sept compared to the future Great Sept of Baelor.

Nevertheless, within this Sept, the High Septon could be seen breaking everything in his path. Even hours after the incident, the sound of shattering pottery could still be heard. There was not a single jar or plate left intact in the Sept. Of that, the High Septon made certain.

“Your Holiness, let us leave the city and return to Oldtown.” Martin said, worried and slightly cautious. He did not dare meet the High Septon’s eyes. At the same time, the memory of his companions’ decapitated heads made him want to flee this cursed city as soon as possible.

As for dignity, Martin did not care. As a commoner who had climbed the church’s rigid hierarchy, dignity meant nothing to him. Only nobles cared about such a thing; he did not give a damn about being dignified, he only wanted to stay alive.

However, while Martin might not care, the same could not be said of the High Septon. As a being worshiped as a living god, the thought of fleeing with his tail between his legs like a mere dog inflamed the fury bubbling in his chest even further.

“I WILL NOT FLEE!!!” He roared at the top of his lungs; it seemed even the walls trembled as the High Septon’s chest heaved rapidly. “I AM THE HIGH SEPTON, ANOINTED BY THE SACRED LIGHT OF THE FAITH OF THE SEVEN; I WILL NOT FLEE LIKE A DOG!!!”

Martin only bowed his head even lower, but, inwardly, he scoffed at the High Septon’s snobbery and arrogance. Perhaps, having held the position for so long, the man had forgotten that this continent of Westeros was no longer as it once was. This continent had a master now, and that very master truly wished to wage war.

This time, it was not merely a conflict but a war. This time, House Targaryen would not hesitate to use the dragons. Of that, Martin had no doubt at all, especially after seeing Maekar. The young prince would burn any loyal army without a moment’s hesitation.

Honestly, Martin was already thinking about how he would flee to Essos, to Braavos or Pentos. As for guilt or any other feeling toward the Faith of the Seven, he had none. As a commoner, he knew better than anyone how lucky he was to be where he was.

But that had not come from luck alone but also from his own efforts. Everything he had achieved had not come with the Faith of the Seven’s help. He had lost count of the times he had been scorned or even shunned by others of noble, elevated origin in Oldtown.

Because of that, he, like many septons, was not truly religious; he merely used the faith to gain status and money. Now that this pirate ship was sinking, Martin did not hesitate to jump into the water and flee as fast as possible.

As for whether House Targaryen or the Faith of the Seven would win, Martin did not care. He only knew this would be the bloodiest conflict in thousands of years, and he did not want to be caught in the middle when some gigantic dragon burned Oldtown to the ground.

Martin regretted not having been born earlier; at least, had he been old, he would have lived out the last years of the Old King’s reign in peace.

Now, with the change of throne and the holy war approaching, he only wanted to flee with his tail between his legs like a dog. Something the Septon apparently had no wish to do.

“Martin, go fetch White; we must talk.” Taking a deep breath, the High Septon gave the order in a cold, impatient tone.

Martin’s eyelashes trembled slightly at the order. At that moment, he already knew what the High Septon wanted. To others, the White Flowers were merely a religious group, but Martin knew this group and the other six could form a Faith Militant at any moment; they only needed weapons.

When that happened, the peace treaty the Faith of the Seven had made with King Jaehaerys I would collapse.

Yet, this was the worst possible outcome for the Faith of the Seven. Even should the Faith Militant be reestablished, this religious group was far from comparable to the veterans who made up the true Faith Militant. Yes, there were good soldiers among them, but these were the minority.

Most were fanatical commoners who had perhaps never even held a sword or spear. An army like this was no different from a lion made of paper. They appeared strong, but when they truly met trouble, they revealed their true nature, paper with little strength behind it.

Martin regretted working for someone as foolish as the High Septon. Reestablishing the Faith Militant was the same as handing House Targaryen a valid reason to attack the Faith of the Seven. Not to mention the growing discontent of the people of King’s Landing. Should that continue to spread, aside from the truly devout, the less faithful would likely fight for House Targaryen instead.

Even so, Martin made no attempt to convince the High Septon otherwise. He wanted the High Septon to draw all the attention onto himself so that he himself could escape King’s Landing. As for what would become of the High Septon, he did not want to know; he had no patience for whoever might know and would kill anyone who dared tell him.

“Yes, Your Holiness.” Bowing, Martin spoke in a respectful tone and withdrew from the room.

As Martin closed the door, he could still hear the roars and the sound of pottery shattering. Shaking his head, he walked away with calm steps.

–

It is a labyrinth of winding, unpaved alleys and cross streets below Flour Street, descending the eastern slope of Rhaenys’s Hill. The buildings lean over the narrow lanes, almost touching one another. The air is thick with the stench of pigsties, stables, and tanneries, mixed with the smell of taverns and brothels.

This was Flea Bottom.

Septon Martin turned his head and saw a child, no more than eight years old, drinking something brown with an indifferent expression. It was the famous bowl of brown. A stew served to the poor in taverns for very low prices. As for the pieces of meat floating in the bowl, Martin did not want to know their origin.

The meat varied from tavern to tavern, but it was not uncommon for it to include pigeons, rats, cats, and dogs. Some even used carcasses of dubious origin… When someone speaks of meat of dubious origin, bear in mind that 99% of the time it was human flesh.

Most people likely knew the origin of this dubious meat, but hunger was a terrible thing. Not to mention the meat of filthy animals, many could eat human flesh rather than starve.

Holding his breath, Martin found a house at the end of the alley. It was relatively large. It was more intact than most of the houses around it.

Martin approached and knocked on the door. Footsteps could be heard from behind the door, but it was not opened. The septon could hear breathing on the other side of the door. Knowing the man would not open it, he spoke in a calm tone.

“The light of the seven is sacred; only the pure and devoted of heart are truly noble.”

The door opened and a short man with acne on his face answered in a respectful, friendly tone. “May peace be with you, brother.”

“I have come to find White,” Martin said, and the man gestured for him to come inside. So the septon did.

Ignoring the looks around him, Martin was led to a room, where the man opened the door, revealing a room of sin, with nothing but a bed and nothing else.

Sitting back on his own legs was a tall, shirtless man. Martin flinched at the loud, sharp sound of the leather-strapped rod striking flesh.

‘Mad fanatic.’ Martin thought, seeing the man’s back covered in scars.

“White, His Holiness has ordered you to present yourself before him as urgently as possible.” Martin said in a calm tone, but the man before him simply continued flogging himself as though he had not heard.

Only a simple “mm hm” escaped his mouth.

This left Martin speechless, but he had already carried out the orders given by the High Septon, and he did not care whether White obeyed or not.

——–

Read my other books:

House of The Dragon:The Rise of the Emperor of the Seven Kingdoms

Game Of Thrones: The God-Emperor of Planetos

Percy Jackson: Godwyn the Golden.

Game Of Thrones: The King’s Court Wizard