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98.21% Dragon from Winterfell / Chapter 55: Chapter 55

Kapitel 55: Chapter 55

A week after my arrival in Volantis, I finally began preparing for the next expedition. This time, the destination was Valyria—I was curious about what had happened there.

"And let's not forget about the mission..."

"What are you talking about, Daeron?" Diya asked as we strolled through the city.

"Haha, just thinking out loud."

Observing my expression, Diya made a decision and said:

"You're thinking about Valyria, aren't you?"

"Am I that easy to read?"

With a bright smile, she replied:

"Haha, no, I just know you very well."

"That's true. Where would you like to go?"

Looking thoughtfully at the sky, Diya said decisively:

"Let's visit the main temple of Volantis?"

Several hours earlier in the Temple of R'hllor

From the perspective of ???

R'hllor, the Lord of Light, the God of Flame and Shadow, is a fiery deity from the eastern lands. The Cult of R'hllor preaches the struggle of light against darkness, denouncing all other gods as false. Its ministers are called red priests.

The red priests teach that the world is a battle of opposites, good and evil, embodied by the Lord of Light and the Lord of Darkness, also known as R'hllor and the Great Other. R'hllor is the creator of the sun and stars, eternally battling the darkness, his adversary—"the Icy Soul," the God of Night and Terror.

Everything and everyone in the world serves either R'hllor or his nameless opponent; their conflict has lasted since the beginning of time and will end with the victory of one or the other. In this battle, there is no third side; all people must make a voluntary choice of whose side they are on—those who reject R'hllor inadvertently turn to the Great Other.

R'hllorianism allows for the existence of other supernatural entities but includes them in the same system of service and opposition of fire and darkness. For instance, the Old gods and the Drowned God were called demons, servants of the Great Other.

A tall, thin old man, with an ascetic milk-white elongated face and bright-red tattoos of flames covering his shaved head, encircling his eyes and lipless mouth, said:

"I have received a vision from our God!" he proclaimed with a clear and loud voice.

Seeing the priests and followers of R'hllor listening attentively, he smiled genuinely and declared:

"The Day of the Final Battle is near!"

The old man pointed at the moon, clenched his fist, and spread his arms wide. His voice grew louder, and his fingers suddenly flared up, eliciting a collective gasp from the congregation. The priest began drawing signs in the air, Valyrian glyphs meaning Doom and Darkness.

Women in the crowd wept, men shook their fists. The old man, who was the high priest of R'hllor's temple in Volantis, continued with a knowing smile:

"Our lord has shown me Azor Ahai!"

The way the crowd fell into ecstasy might shock others who were not part of the Cult.

Several hours later

The old man named Benerro, who had recently preached, sat before the fire of his lord.

"Lord, can you show me what to do next?"

At that moment, the flames before the priest began to dance and show unimaginable images. Phantasmagorical forms flickered in the fire, and Benerro tried to make sense of them.

However, Benerro's contemplation was interrupted by the sound of footsteps, and soon the owner of these steps arrived.

He had coal-black skin, tangled white hair framing his face like a lion's mane, and piercing dark eyes. His cheeks and forehead were tattooed with flames. A stout man with a boulder-like belly, about six and a half feet tall, he wore a red robe of a R'hllor priest and carried a staff with a dragon's head.

"Greetings, Moqorro," said Benerro.

"Bennero," Moqorro replied, nodding slightly.

Moqorro's deep voice was like the rumble of a drum, emanating in a growing hum from the depths of his powerful body.

"What do you see, Moqorro?"

Peering into the flames, Moqorro began to discern something:

"I see blue, red, green, and black eyes... And I see how Azor Ahai battles each owner of these eyes..."

Deciding something for himself, Benerro nodded and said:

"Bennero, I have... No, our lord has a task for you. You must find Azor Ahai before the followers of the Great Other do."

"Why me?"

"You are the one best able to see the truth of our God."

Moqorro simply stated:

"I will do it."

"Just be careful, the followers of the star have begun to act."

Present time near the temple

From Daeron's perspective

There Diya and I stood before the monumental building, its monstrousness striking. Everywhere, the importance of flame to their religion was evident. People in orange robes walked about, and I also saw the religion's guards.

"Diya, be careful, this religion is quite fearsome..." I communicated.

"Okay."

One of the most important and terrifying parts of this religion was sacrifice. The concept of sacrifice is fundamental in the religion of R'hllor: the Lord of Light demands sacrifices. What matters is not so much the size of the sacrifice as its value to the one who offers it. Those who serve R'hllor must be ready to sacrifice to their god what is most dear to them. The most precious sacrifice for R'hllor is an innocent and beloved creature. Thus, Azor Ahai, the messiah of R'hllorianism, took the life of his wife, Nissa Nissa, whom he loved above all else.

Moreover, this god is quite fond of royal blood, at least judging by how the Red Witch of Stannis sought it.

The usual form of sacrifice to R'hllor is burning. The beauty of the object offered in sacrifice makes it even more desirable to the god. From their actions, one could say that for them, it is worthy and moral to burn idols of "false" gods, such as statues of the Seven or weirwood trees dedicated to the Old gods.

Yet, it could also be said that this religion has deep roots. R'hllor, like the Old gods, has no anthropomorphic incarnation. Fire, and to a lesser extent the sun, serves as the visible object of worship; a flaming heart is also a symbol of R'hllor.

"Diya, who do you think makes up the main mass of believers in the Red God?" I asked, observing the people leaving the temple.

Seeing where I was looking, the girl answered:

"The poor and people from the lower strata of society?"

"Exactly, aristocrats, who live beyond the Black Walls, cannot escape their roots. Or rather, they flaunt this characteristic to separate themselves from the 'common folk' and to show how special they are."

"You mean they believe in the gods of Valyria?"

"Exactly, and this creates tension in the city, especially considering how the Cult of the Red God relates to other faiths."

While Diya and I were observing the Red God's temple in Volantis, I didn't notice an elderly man in orange robes approaching us.

"Are you seeking ways to open your heart and soul to the Red God?"

"Perhaps. And you are a priest here, I presume?" I asked with a slight awkward smile.

At the same time, I was sensing what kind of magical aura the old man emitted. It was necessary to say that he was immensely powerful; from him radiated a flame... a wrong, perverted flame. However, such was the case throughout the city in general.

"Yes, my name is Benerro, I am the high priest of this temple. But first and foremost, I am a servant of R'hllor. So I am more than willing to help you understand the full love of R'hllor."

"Diya, I suggest we find out what this God of theirs is all about. But I will do it alone; you should stay here."

Diya immediately radiated reluctance to do so and overall dissatisfaction with my suggestion.

"Don't worry about me; there's nothing dangerously emanating from the old man."

Sensing that Diya was still unhappy, I decided to conclusively settle her concerns.

"And if something extremely dangerous happens, I can get in touch with you. Plus, Tun will be watching over me."

"Alright," Diya replied, still discontent but accepting my reasoning.

"Benerro, I would like to see your temple and learn about your teachings in general. Would you mind showing me around the temple and explaining things?"

"Of course. And the lady who is with you?"

"She needs to rush to her parents, so she won't be able to join us today. I hope this won't cause any inconvenience?"

"It's a pity she cannot join us. But since she has urgent matters, I understand. And it's no trouble at all to show and tell you about the Temple and its Master."

"I will definitely be able to attend next time," Diya said, and after receiving a nod, she walked the other way.

The old man and I then headed towards the temple, quickly and easily passing through the guard and entering inside.

The interior was quite lavish, or rather, ostentatious. Here and there were elements of orange, red, and russet, all showcasing the domain of their God.

Meanwhile, the old man explained the rituals and ceremonies performed in the temple. One of the most important rituals was the evening prayer: every day at sunset, priests and their followers lit a bonfire to thank R'hllor for the day gone by and to pray for him to send the sun again the next day to dispel the impending darkness.

Such prayer could last an hour or more, and at night, the priests were required to maintain the sacred fire, "so that the sun would return to the world in the morning," and they greeted the sun at the temple with a prayer in the morning.

As we walked through the temple, I often heard the following words:

"Lord, illuminate us with your light, for the night is dark and full of terrors."

Stepping away from the people carrying out the ritual, I decided to ask Benerro:

"So the night is dark and full of terrors because of your God's enemy?"

"Exactly, you are familiar with the Lord of Light and his adversary?" he said, literally filled with joy and anticipation.

"I am aware of their opposition, but I am curious why the Lord of Light does not also reign over the night?"

The reason I tried to prolong my time in the temple was that I needed to scan the temple more precisely. I couldn't bring Tun inside; after all, there were quite a few armed people here. My companion is a rather unusual bird, and his presence among these fanatics would create at least tension. What if they take his plumage as a sign of allegiance to their God's opponent?

"Do you want to know about the creation of this world?"

"Here it comes... Now I have to listen to their fanatical version of creation..."

"Yes..."

And so began my ordeal in the form of a lecture from Benerro about how the Father of R'hllor was killed by the Great Other...

"... And so R'hllor battles the Great Other."

"You knew what you were getting into," came the rather sharp reply from my companion.

"Of course, I knew... But that doesn't make it any easier... Do you understand how hard it is to listen to lectures from a fanatic?"

"No, and I do not wish to know."

"It was very interesting; thank you for unveiling this mystery to me."

"Ha, it's no mystery. And it's a joy to speak of the Lord."

At that moment, we reached a place where a dead person lay, surrounded by apparently his kin. A priest of the Red God stood over the body.

"Oh, this is the ritual of the last kiss," Benerro said, noticing where my gaze was directed.

I didn't need to ask what it was, as everything was performed right before my eyes. The priest filled his mouth with fire and began to breathe this fire into the mouth of the deceased.

"And what is the purpose of such actions?"

"The 'Last Kiss,' 'God's Kiss,' or 'Kiss of Fire' is a ritual our priests perform with the dying and the dead. In this way, by filling the soul, heart, and body of the deceased or dying, we guide them on their final journey."

"Quite... interesting," I managed to say before we moved on.

On the way to the last sight, I managed to see a priest exclaiming:

"Lord of Light, look upon us."

The other people, literally staring into the priest's mouth, continued his words:

"Lord of Light, protect us."

"Lord of Light, keep us in the dark."

"Lord of Light, turn your radiant face toward us."

The emotions these people experienced were terrifying; such a level of fanaticism is not good. The priest, sensing the crowd, continued:

"Shed your light on us, R'hllor. Lord of Light, grant us wisdom."

And at that moment, everyone, even Benerro, ended this fanatical horror:

"For the night is dark, and full of terrors."

----

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