The High Sparrow turned around, facing the fanatic believers packed tightly inside the prayer room.
He threw his arms wide. In the dim, flickering candlelight, his ragged hemp tunic seemed to radiate an undeniably holy aura.
The prayer room plunged into a suffocating silence.
Every single pair of eyes locked dead onto him.
And then, that silence was violently shattered by a deafening, tidal wave of absolute fanaticism!
"High Sparrow!"
"High Sparrow!"
"High Sparrow!"
A single zealot aggressively dropped to his knees first, violently thrusting his hands into the air, screaming with every ounce of breath in his lungs.
Then a second, a third...
In mere seconds, every single person in the room had dropped heavily to the stone floor.
They stared up at this emaciated, frail old man, their eyes overflowing with the absolute purest, most unadulterated worship.
In their eyes, this man was absolutely no usurper.
He was a literal, divine envoy dispatched by the Seven to permanently save them!
He had personally, violently executed the heavily corrupted, rotting High Septon, actively reclaiming the absolute Faith that rightfully belonged to them!
The High Sparrow looked down at the sea of kneeling fanatics. His cloudy eyes didn't show a single fraction of arrogance or triumph.
There was only an absolute, freezing calm.
He knew perfectly well that this was absolutely not enough.
Blind adoration was completely insufficient!
He desperately needed hard power. A heavily armed, absolute military force strictly loyal to him.
A literal army capable of violently going toe-to-toe with the corrupt nobility, or even the King himself!
"Rise."
The High Sparrow's voice echoed through the chamber.
He stepped out of the bloodstained prayer room, marching aggressively back into the cavernous, empty main hall of the Great Sept of Baelor.
Outside, thousands of heavily incited smallfolk were still packed tightly in the massive plaza. They stared toward the Sept, their eyes violently swirling with heavy anticipation and deep anxiety.
The High Sparrow stepped out onto the towering marble steps, facing the endless sea of people.
"Brothers and sisters!"
"Just moments ago, the Seven violently unleashed their divine wrath!"
"That rotting sinner who actively stole the Gods' wealth and completely betrayed our Faith has been permanently, personally judged by my own hands!"
He aggressively thrust his arm into the air, holding the towering, crystal crown of the Seven high for all to see.
"From this exact second forward, the Faith of King's Landing will absolutely never again serve as a pathetic, corrupt piggy bank for the noble lords!"
"It officially, permanently returns to the hands of every single devout believer!"
The massive plaza violently erupted into deafening, thunderous cheers!
"Well said!"
"The Faith is ours!"
"All hail the Seven!"
The High Sparrow watched the apocalyptic reaction with deep satisfaction. This was the exact, highly calculated effect he needed.
He slowly pressed his hands down, demanding absolute silence.
"But, my brothers and sisters, have you ever actively asked yourselves why?"
"Why exactly do those corrupt noble lords dare to so violently, ruthlessly oppress us?"
"Why did the King actively, permanently abandon his most loyal subjects the exact second an apocalyptic threat arrived at our gates?"
His heavy, lethal questions caused the euphoric atmosphere in the plaza to instantly plummet into a suffocating, dead silence.
Right. Why?
"Because we do not hold the swords!"
The High Sparrow's voice violently detonated like a literal thunderbolt over their heads!
"Because to them, we are absolutely nothing but a massive flock of pathetic, expendable livestock waiting to be slaughtered!"
"They possess heavily armored, elite guards, while we absolutely only have our prayers!"
"They possess razor-sharp steel, while we only possess our pathetic, bending knees!"
"Is that fair?!"
The entire crowd let out a synchronized, bloodcurdling roar.
"NO!"
The High Sparrow gave a slow, highly satisfied nod.
"The Seven absolutely did not create us to endlessly suffer this highly toxic, rotting humiliation!"
With every single syllable he spat, the crowd's apocalyptic rage violently escalated!
By the end, every single person in the plaza was aggressively clenching their fists, their eyes completely bloodshot with sheer, unadulterated fury!
"Then exactly what the hell do we do?!" a desperate, cracking voice shrieked from the crowd.
"We violently take up arms!"
The High Sparrow aggressively thrust a bony finger straight toward the towering silhouette of the Red Keep!
"The King has fled! The Gold Cloaks have fled!"
"Right now, there is absolutely no one left in this rotting city to actively protect us!"
"We can only rely on ourselves!"
"I officially declare this in my absolute capacity as the sole, living avatar of the Seven on earth!"
"From this exact day forward, the Faith Militant is permanently, violently resurrected!"
The Faith Militant!
That absolute, highly lethal term—strictly, permanently outlawed since the violent era of the Targaryen dynasty—had just aggressively detonated across King's Landing once again!
"Every single brother absolutely willing to bleed for the Seven shall instantly become a Warrior's Son!"
"Every single sister willing to violently defend the Faith shall join the Poor Fellows!"
"We will actively use our own steel to violently defend our home!"
"We will use our own bare hands to permanently execute any rotting sinner who dares desecrate the Gods!"
"Are you with me?!"
"YES!"
"WE ARE WITH YOU!"
"FIGHT FOR THE GODS!"
The massive crowd completely, permanently lost their fucking minds!
They were entirely, violently ignited by the High Sparrow's highly toxic rhetoric!
Decades of heavily suppressed rage, apocalyptic humiliation, and bitter resentment aggressively mutated into the absolute purest, most primal urge for extreme violence!
They violently surged forward, aggressively kicking down the doors of abandoned armories and violently looting the sprawling estates of the fleeing nobles!
They grabbed absolutely anything that could physically cause blunt force trauma or lethal lacerations!
Rusted longswords, heavy wood-splitting axes, even literal meat cleavers violently ripped from tavern kitchens!
In just half a single day.
A massive, apocalyptic army forged from tens of thousands of heavily fanatic zealots had miraculously, violently materialized in the streets of King's Landing!
They possessed zero uniform armor and absolutely no standard-issue weaponry.
But they possessed absolute, psychotic faith!
They genuinely, entirely believed they were actively executing the undeniable will of the Gods!
The High Sparrow stared down at the massive, lethal military force he had just personally, flawlessly incubated. A faint, deeply chilling smile finally crept across his ancient face.
He knew perfectly well that phase one was an absolute, flawless victory.
His next heavily calculated move was to actively, permanently mutate the entirety of King's Landing into his own absolute, psychotic theocracy!
He immediately ordered the massive mountain of gold violently extracted from the High Septon's hidden vault to be aggressively distributed.
A massive chunk was heavily utilized to strictly secure the city's remaining food supply, flawlessly pacifying the desperately starving, unaligned smallfolk.
The rest was aggressively poured into forging lethal steel and heavy armor for his new Warrior's Sons.
He simultaneously dispatched an endless swarm of Sparrows to aggressively infiltrate every single street and alleyway.
They were absolutely no longer hiding in the shadows.
They were actively, violently screaming the High Sparrow's absolute, fanatic doctrines directly into the public's faces.
They issued an absolute, ironclad ultimatum to the city!
Luxury is a mortal sin! Lust is a mortal sin! Denying the absolute authority of the Seven is a permanently unforgivable, apocalyptic crime!
The entirety of King's Landing was violently plunged into a highly toxic, suffocatingly oppressive religious terror.
The wealthy merchants and fat nobles who hadn't managed to flee were completely paralyzed by fear, absolutely refusing to take a single step outside their heavily barricaded doors.
The massive brothels were violently shut down; the sprawling taverns became completely, entirely dead.
The streets were exclusively patrolled by heavily armed squads of Warrior's Sons, the seven-pointed star violently carved or painted onto their chests.
They were actively hunting "sinners."
Any pathetic soul who dared publicly question the High Sparrow, or showed even a fractional ounce of "immoral" behavior, was violently apprehended on the spot, brutally dragged to the steps of the Great Sept, and subjected to a highly public, agonizing trial!
The absolute entirety of King's Landing had flawlessly mutated into the High Sparrow's personal, psychotic kingdom.
But to him, it was absolutely still not enough.
His cloudy, lethal gaze heavily locked onto the towering Red Keep sitting atop Aegon's High Hill.
That fortress. That specific chair. That was the absolute, supreme manifestation of mortal power!
"It is time."
The High Sparrow stood on the towering marble steps, staring down at his fully operational, highly lethal Faith Militant.
"That rotting fortress has been permanently tainted by apocalyptic sin and vile lust for far too long."
"Right now, we are going to actively purify it."
He didn't waste another single syllable. Clutching his heavy wooden staff and walking completely barefoot, he marched deliberately, aggressively straight toward the Red Keep.
Thousands of heavily armed Warrior's Sons followed him in an absolute, dead-silent, unified formation.
Their heavy, synchronized footsteps violently shook the cobblestones.
The massive, iron-reinforced oak gates of the Red Keep were heavily barred shut.
But that absolutely could not stop them.
"Smash it down!"
At the absolute command, dozens of massive, heavily muscled Warrior's Sons aggressively hoisted a towering, thick battering ram and violently slammed it directly into the heavy gates!
BOOM!
BOOM!
BOOM!
Just a few apocalyptic strikes later, the massive doors violently, permanently shattered inward!
The High Sparrow marched through the wreckage with an entirely unreadable, dead-calm mask.
The sprawling Red Keep was completely, absolutely empty. Not a single living soul remained.
The only sound was the heavy, freezing wind violently howling through the abandoned courtyards.
He methodically crossed the grounds, navigating the heavy stone corridors, until he finally stepped directly into the absolute most powerful room in the entirety of Westeros.
The Great Hall.
The towering, apocalyptic Iron Throne sat dead silent at the far end of the cavernous room.
Forged from the violently melted, twisted steel of a thousand surrendered swords.
The absolute, undeniable symbol of supreme mortal authority.
The High Sparrow slowly, deliberately closed the distance.
He reached out a withered, bony hand, gently grazing the freezing, razor-sharp steel blades.
He absolutely did not sit down.
He simply turned around, locking his dead gaze onto the massive horde of fanatics trailing behind him.
"This throne is the absolute, rotting root of all mortal sin."
"It drives men into apocalyptic madness and drowns the world in oceans of blood."
"From this exact second forward, it shall be heavily, permanently guarded by the Seven themselves."
"Until an absolutely righteous, genuinely devout King finally manifests."
His heavy words caused the entire room to collectively, violently exhale in profound relief.
They had genuinely been terrified that the High Sparrow would suffer a psychotic break and actively claim the throne for himself.
That would have completely, permanently shattered the religious purity of their crusade.
Right at that exact second.
A heavily panting Sparrow scout violently burst through the heavy doors, frantically scrambling into the hall.
"High Septon!"
He was already actively utilizing the absolute supreme title.
"Just outside Blackwater Bay... we have visually confirmed a massive armada!"
"They are actively flying the crowned stag of House Baratheon!"
Stannis had arrived!
Every single trace of color violently drained from the faces of the fanatics packed in the hall.
Sure, they had miraculously forged a massive militia, but matched against Stannis's highly disciplined, blood-soaked veterans... they were absolutely nothing but a pathetic, chaotic mob!
Every single pair of panicked eyes aggressively locked onto the High Sparrow.
His heavily lined face didn't shift a fractional inch.
He simply raised his head slowly, his dead gaze seemingly piercing straight through the heavy stone ceiling of the Red Keep, staring directly into the freezing, storm-covered sky.
"Let that false king come."
"King's Landing is the absolute domain of the Seven."
"Any heretic who dares step foot here will be violently, permanently subjected to the absolute, infallible judgment of the Gods."
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