บท 484: Chapter 485: The New High Septon
In the throne room of Maegor's Holdfast, Bruce Antaryon once again faced the King.
This time, the golden-haired, golden-eyed image that had radiated divine majesty was gone. Instead, the king seated upon the Iron Throne had returned to his original appearance: brown hair and dark eyes, exuding a more approachable demeanor.
However, Bruce did not dare to display the slightest disrespect.
"Your Majesty, the esteemed and sacred Caesar, I bring you the sincerest greetings from the Sealord of Braavos."
"Lord Bruus," Samwell studied the guest from across the Narrow Sea. "Has the Braavosi rebellion been quelled?"
"It has, Your Majesty, thanks in no small part to your invaluable assistance. For that, my father sends his deepest gratitude. Additionally, I am here to fulfill the marriage agreement reached between our two houses."
Previously, to secure safe passage across the Narrow Sea, Samwell, through the mediation of Varys, had agreed to a marriage alliance with the Antaryon family.
Although the Braavosi fleet's eventual involvement in the war had been minimal, Samwell had no intention of reneging on the deal. With winter now upon them and the White Walkers posing a threat to all humanity, an alliance with the Free Cities was essential. The friendship of the Sealord would be particularly critical.
"That can be arranged," Samwell replied. "My sister, Sarella Tarly, will marry you. However, she has not yet come of age and will require two more years. I ask for your patience."
Bruce frowned and hesitated. "Your Majesty, it is not a matter of patience. My father has been gravely ill for years and is now nearing the end of his life. His final wish is to see me married before he departs this world. I've heard that you have three sisters, and the eldest, Tala, is of age. Might I instead be honored to wed her?"
"My apologies, but Tala is already married to Edmure Tully, Lord of Riverrun." Seeing Bruus's increasingly anxious expression, Samwell added, "I will personally travel to Braavos to attend your betrothal ceremony with Sarella."
"That would be a tremendous honor, Your Majesty!" Bruce's worry instantly gave way to elation. "Your visit would bring unparalleled glory to House Antaryon!"
Samwell smiled, recognizing the true state of affairs. The Antaryon family had temporarily stabilized Braavos but lacked the strength to eliminate their opposition. With the Sealord on the verge of death, they were desperate for external support to secure Bruus's succession.
Samwell didn't mind. He needed a reliable ally across the Narrow Sea, and this marriage offered a convenient means to cement that alliance.
After a few more pleasantries, Samwell dismissed Bruce and arranged for him to meet Sarella.
Just as Bruce departed, Gavin Mander, the spymaster, approached hurriedly, handing Samwell a document.
"Your Majesty," Gavin said, "it seems the late High Septon still has many devoted followers. Some nobles are even stirring up trouble."
Samwell glanced briefly at the document and chuckled. "Let them show their hands. That makes it easier to deal with them. What's the news from the Great Sept of Baelor?"
"The election has concluded," Gavin reported. "Reynard, the senior-most septon, has been chosen as the new High Septon."
"Excellent. Bring him to me."
"As you command, Your Majesty."
---
At the Great Sept of Baelor, the newly elected High Septon had just finished a long prayer. Slowly, he rose from his knees before the statue of the Father.
From this moment onward, his mortal name would be forgotten, replaced by the title of High Septon. As the chosen voice of the Seven, he no longer needed an earthly identity.
Yet, his heart was heavy with fear rather than joy.
The horrifying image of the previous High Septon being burned to ashes before King Caesar under the gaze of the Seven still haunted him.
Earlier, he had prayed countless times, beseeching the Seven for guidance, but no divine answer had come—just as it never had before.
Sometimes, he wondered if the Seven truly existed. Whenever such heretical thoughts surfaced, he forcibly suppressed them.
But today, he could no longer dismiss the possibility.
If the Seven were real, how could they allow their earthly representative to perish so gruesomely?
Lost in thought, the High Septon left the prayer hall and returned to his chambers.
When he opened the door, he was startled to see a figure standing by the window.
Mistaking the person for a servant, he said, "You may leave now."
"Septon Reynard," the figure said, turning around.
The High Septon froze. It was Gavin Mander, the Master of Whisperer of the Iron Throne.
Panic-stricken, the High Septon stammered, "H-how did you get in here?"
Gavin smiled enigmatically as he opened a wardrobe door. "Come with me."
The High Septon hesitated for a long moment, his expression shifting. At last, he gritted his teeth and stepped into the wardrobe.
The back panel of the wardrobe had been removed, revealing a dark tunnel.
Reaching out tentatively, he felt the cold iron of a ladder. Descending carefully, he found himself in an earthen tunnel sloping downward.
Gavin, holding a torch, waited for him below.
"There's a secret passage under the Great Sept?"
"Not ours," Gavin said, shaking his head. "King Maegor had these tunnels built centuries ago. Come along. The king wishes to see you."
Why couldn't the king meet him at the Sept? The High Septon wanted to ask but dared not.
The memory of his predecessor's fiery end haunted him. He feared he might meet the same fate.
After what felt like an eternity, he emerged into a small, narrow chamber.
"We're in the Red Keep?"
"Yes." Gavin tossed him a black robe. "Put this on."
The High Septon obeyed without complaint, pulling the hood over his head to conceal his face.
Gavin led him through winding corridors and up a spiral staircase until they reached the king's study.
"Go on." Gavin pushed open the door and gestured for him to enter.
The High Septon took a deep breath and stepped inside.
Bang.
The door closed behind him, making him flinch.
"Relax, Reynard," came Caesar's voice.
The High Septon looked up to see the king reclining on a sofa, casually holding a copy of The Seven-Pointed Star.
Gone was the divine aura and golden appearance from before, replaced by his usual brown-haired, dark-eyed visage. But to the High Septon, this man was more terrifying than the gods themselves.
"Your Grace, you summoned me..."
"Sit."
The High Septon obediently sat across from the king, holding his breath.
Samwell closed the book and asked, "Tell me, Reynard, what does it mean to blaspheme?"
Sweat beaded on the High Septon's forehead, his trembling hands betraying his fear.
He knew this was a dangerous question—one with potentially fatal consequences.
Images of his predecessor's gruesome demise flashed through his mind, amplifying his terror.
"Blasphemy... is the crime of the High Sparrow!" he blurted out, his voice trembling.
Samwell smiled.
(End of Chapter)
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