Bab 280: Chapter 281: The Gods at War
"Perhaps."
Samwell was unimpressed with the response.
"Lord Caesar, are you familiar with the White Walkers?" Marwyn the Mage began, as usual, by leading the conversation with a question.
"They're said to be humanoid, intelligent beings beyond the Wall. Their arrival brings the Long Night and the deadly chill of winter, accompanied by destruction and death. The Night's Watch was established to stop them."
"Exactly. The White Walkers haven't been seen for thousands of years, but recent reports from the Wall suggest sightings of wights—reanimated corpses. These wights have no consciousness, driven only to kill."
Samwell's eyes narrowed. "Do you think the White Walkers' ability to resurrect the dead is similar to the Lord of Light's resurrection?"
"That's my theory," Marwyn replied with a nod. "Both involve resurrection, with the notable loss or manipulation of consciousness. It's hard not to see a connection. But it doesn't stop there; I've also considered another... group."
"Which group?"
"The Faceless Men."
"The assassins of the House of Black and White, who worship the Many-Faced God? What do they have to do with this?" Samwell frowned, struggling to follow Marwyn's mental leaps.
"Do you know the origin of the Faceless Men?"
"It's said they were once slaves working in the mines of Valyria."
"Exactly. The mines were in the volcanic region of the Fourteen Flames, where the Valyrian Peninsula connects to Essos. Those mines were hellish—blistering heat, suffocating air, steam vents, boiling water, and molten rock. It was a death sentence for the slaves forced to work there.
When slaves died, Valyrian sorcerers resurrected them. I'm not certain which deity's power they invoked—Valyrians worshipped many gods—but I suspect R'hllor, the Lord of Light, was involved. After all, the flames were his domain.
The resurrected slaves were immune to pain and exhaustion, allowing them to toil in those extreme conditions. However, these resurrected slaves retained a fragment of self-awareness. This sliver of consciousness made them yearn for death to escape their misery.
They prayed to their gods for release, but their prayers went unanswered.
Until one day, a slave awakened—later known as the first Faceless Man. He granted his fellow slaves the gift of death, freeing them from their torment."
Samwell immediately grasped the implication. "You're suggesting the first Faceless Man was someone who broke free from the control of resurrection magic?"
The tale wasn't entirely unfamiliar—he'd read similar accounts in The World of Ice and Fire. But Marwyn's perspective offered a new lens through which to interpret the story.
"That's my guess," Marwyn confirmed. "It's a myth, of course, so the details are murky. But I believe if you want to understand how to free someone from the control of resurrection magic, the first Faceless Man's actions might hold the key."
"You mean understanding how he awakened?"
"Exactly."
"But the story doesn't explain how he did it."
Marwyn chuckled, his tone playful. "Think about it—who did the first Faceless Man worship?"
"The Many-Faced God..." Samwell's brow furrowed as he considered the implications.
Marwyn offered another clue. "Before the Faceless Men, no one worshipped the Many-Faced God. According to their belief, this deity has countless aspects: the Stranger in Westeros, the Lion of Night in Yi Ti, the Black Goat of Qohor... Essentially, the Many-Faced God represents all death gods combined."
The realization struck Samwell like a thunderbolt. The Many-Faced God wasn't a singular deity; it was an amalgamation of every death god across cultures.
"You think the first Faceless Man broke free by worshipping multiple gods of death?"
"Precisely!" Marwyn's eyes lit up. "When someone reveres many gods, their influences balance and cancel each other out. It's like wind blowing from all directions—no one force prevails."
"Multiple deities..." Samwell murmured, deep in thought.
The idea resonated with him. Perhaps this was the key to helping Dickon escape R'hllor's control. If his brother began worshipping multiple gods, the Lord of Light's influence might be neutralized.
Of course, merely worshipping other gods wouldn't guarantee divine intervention. Would the other deities even care to oppose R'hllor?
Regardless, it was a promising avenue to explore—better than Melisandre's vague advice to "remember who you are."
"Just worshipping multiple gods won't suffice, will it?" Samwell asked.
"Correct. To gain the gods' favor, you must prove your worth to them," Marwyn replied. "The gods compete with each other, just as mortals do. I've always believed the Doom of Valyria was the result of divine rivalry. Perhaps the first Faceless Man played a crucial role in that cosmic conflict."
Samwell fell silent, lost in thought.
Marwyn observed him for a moment before continuing. "Lord Caesar, I've heard many stories about you. I also know you have a Red Priestess in your service—Melisandre, isn't it?"
"Yes. She's from Asshai. Do you know her?"
"No, but I know this: R'hllor is among the most powerful and dangerous of the gods. And then there's that prophecy... bleeding stars, the Long Night, the rebirth of Azor Ahai..." Marwyn gave Samwell a pitying look. "From where I stand, you fit the prophecy's description all too well."
Samwell said nothing, his expression unreadable.
Marwyn pressed on. "You fear your destiny, don't you? You're worried the Lord of Light is pulling the strings. And you're right to be concerned.
Think about Azor Ahai, forging his sword, Lightbringer. The tale glorifies his sacrifice—plunging the blade into his wife's heart to imbue it with her soul, her courage, and her love.
But how did Wife feel about this?
And how did Azor Ahai himself feel, murdering his beloved for some grand purpose?
Was he truly in control of his actions, or was he a puppet of destiny?"
Marwyn leaned in, his voice dropping to an almost conspiratorial whisper. "Even the mightiest gods are prisoners of the magic they wield. Their influence on our world is limited. You may be able to resist them."
Samwell offered a faint smile. "You seem eager to see that happen."
"To defy gods with mortal will—what greater story could there be?" Marwyn said, his tone reverent. "If you want answers, I suggest visiting the House of Black and White. The Faceless Men may hold secrets about the gods. It could be a crucial step."
Samwell nodded thoughtfully. Perhaps a trip to Braavos, with Dickon in tow, was worth considering.
"Was my knowledge useful to you, Lord Caesar?" Marwyn asked hopefully. "If so, could you grant me a sample of your dragon's blood or flesh for research?"
Samwell's response was firm. "I won't let anyone harm my dragon. Choose another reward."
Marwyn sighed in disappointment but nodded. After some thought, he said, "In that case, if your dragon ever lays eggs, could I have one for study?"
Samwell frowned. "You know some dragons never lay eggs."
"I'm willing to take that risk," Marwyn said with a shrug.
"And if I give you a dragon egg, do you have the means to hatch it?"
"I don't intend to hatch it—I only wish to study it."
"Fine." Samwell finally agreed. "If my dragon lays eggs, you'll get one."
"Thank you for your generosity!" Marwyn beamed.
"Don't celebrate yet," Samwell warned. "The knowledge you've shared doesn't justify a dragon egg. I have an additional condition."
"Name it."
"You're a maester, so you must be skilled in handling ravens. Can you ensure a group of ravens dies silently and simultaneously?"
Marwyn's brow furrowed. "You mean killing ravens?"
"Yes, every single raven in Highgarden. I want them all dead within two weeks."
Marwyn hesitated. "The Citadel forbids meddling in politics..."
"This isn't politics—it's pest control."
After a moment of contemplation, took out another handful of sour grass and stuffed it into his mouth. After chewing for a while, he opened his big mouth stained with red juice and said, "Fine."
(End of Chapter)
Status Power Mingguan
-- Peringkat
Power 
-- Power
stone