Baelor Hightower found the High Septon, who had fled from King's Landing, in a brothel in the Port district of Oldtown.
When the attendant pushed open the carved wooden door of the innermost room on the second floor, the scene that met Baelor's eyes made his mouth twitch.
The High Septon, draped in luxurious robes and wearing a tall crown, was frantically adjusting his disheveled garments, while another figure could be vaguely seen curled up under the covers on the bed.
The room was filled with the mixed scent of wine, cheap perfume, and sweat.
Baelor stood at the doorway, watching expressionlessly as the pot-bellied High Septon fastened his belt, put on his robe, and straightened his crown.
The High Septon's oily face was filled with the embarrassment of being caught in the act.
"B-Baelor Ser..." the High Septon gave a dry cough. "Since Lord Leyton wishes to see me, then please lead the way."
Baelor couldn't be bothered to speak; he stepped aside and made a gesture of invitation.
There was silence the whole way.
The two crossed the winding streets of Oldtown and ascended the Hightower.
In the study at the top of the tower, Leyton Hightower was standing before a massive map of The Reach, his back to the door.
He heard footsteps and slowly turned around.
His eyes, deep in their sockets, calmly scrutinized the High Septon.
"High Septon, you have come a long way. Oldtown is remote, and I have failed to welcome you properly."
Just as the High Septon was about to offer pleasantries, Leyton changed the subject, his tone flat: "You have truly worked hard, High Septon, sparing no effort to personally traverse the streets of Oldtown to observe the lives of the people."
"However, the streets of Oldtown are chaotic and not as orderly as King's Landing. You should bring more guards when you walk about, to avoid danger."
The High Septon's face turned pale instantly; clearly, the matter had already reached the Lord's ears.
But he quickly suppressed his panic, his face contorting into a look of sorrow: "Alas... Lord Leyton does not know. That Targaryen broke through King's Landing, destroyed the Great Sept of Baelor, and the followers of the Seven fled in panic. I, too, narrowly escaped with my life before making the long journey to Oldtown."
"Thanks to the relief from House Hightower, the followers of the Seven have been able to catch their breath. May the Mother have mercy..."
As he spoke, he traced the seven-pointed star on his chest.
Leyton listened quietly until he finished, then slowly spoke: "As a pious follower of the Seven, I naturally would not sit idly by while the devotees of our faith are displaced."
"House Hightower has guarded Oldtown and the Starry Sept for generations; it is our duty."
The High Septon's eyes lit up: "I was just about to ask for your help, my Lord... Now that King's Landing has fallen and the Great Sept of Baelor has been destroyed, the faith of the Seven is displaced."
"I wish to establish myself at the Starry Sept, preside over church affairs, and rally the faith of the Seven once more. I hope, my Lord, that you will assist me..."
Leyton did not answer directly; he paced to the window, looking out at the layered rooftops of Oldtown and the distant Port, silent for a moment: "I will certainly not sit idly by. However..."
He turned around, his gaze falling on the map: "King's Landing has fallen. Although many followers successfully fled and entered The Reach, many more followers of the Seven remain trapped in the North, under the tyranny of that heretical false god."
"As followers of the Seven, how can we just stand by and watch?"
The High Septon looked sorrowful, but even more so, fearful.
He rubbed his hands, his voice trembling: "That Targaryen... truly detestable. That Three-headed Dragon is nothing but a minion of the false god."
"But the current strength of the Church... The Great Sept of Baelor is destroyed, the followers are scattered, I fear the Seven are blaming us... I only wish to hurry to the Starry Sept to pray piously, to appease the Seven, and atone for our sins..."
Leyton looked at the pot-bellied High Septon before him, who was full of fear and only wanted to hide in the church for safety, a trace of imperceptible disgust flashing in his eyes.
But he suppressed his disdain, his voice becoming more solemn: "High Septon, we followers will certainly not sit idly by while a heretical false god wantonly alters the faith of the Seven."
"I invited you here not to listen to your complaints, but to discuss a major matter with you."
The High Septon was stunned: "What do you mean, Lord Leyton?"
"War."
As soon as these two words were uttered, the air in the study seemed to freeze.
The High Septon's expression shocked, he opened his mouth but couldn't speak.
Leyton continued: "We will drive out that heretical false god through war and restore the glory of the Seven."
"But this war requires your help, High Septon. We need you, in your capacity as High Septon, to call upon the followers of the Seven Kingdoms and issue a decree for a Holy War."
"We need a religious war in the name of the Seven to completely drive that heretical false god out of Westeros."
The High Septon's face turned paler and paler.
He recalled the glimpse of that Three-headed Dragon at King's Landing, the shadow that blotted out the sky, and the destructive golden lightning, a trace of uncontrollable fear flashing in his eyes: "This... Lord Leyton, now that the followers are scattered everywhere, I fear it will be difficult to assemble them."
"Besides, ever since King Maegor the Cruel, the Church has not been allowed to have armed forces. Even if we gathered all the followers, what use would it be?"
"How can unarmed septons and followers fight against that dragon..."
Leyton sneered inwardly, but remained calm on the surface.
He certainly knew that this High Septon was a useless glutton, but even a useless glutton had his uses.
The title he held, the name of the supreme leader of the faith of the Seven, had irreplaceable value in the storm about to be unleashed.
The reason he wanted to launch this crusade in a religious form, rather than as a coalition of noble armies, was simple: Hightower was, after all, only a Warden of the South temporarily appointed by Tywin, and it was extremely difficult to rally the haughty lords of The Reach with this title.
But if it were in the name of the faith of the Seven, the nature of it would be completely different.
Those lords might not obey Hightower, but they could not openly defy the call of the High Septon; at least in The Reach, where the faith of the Seven was deeply rooted, no one would dare.
"High Septon, you misunderstand." Leyton spoke, his voice steady. "Naturally, I would not have you lead the followers into battle alone."
"The nobles of The Reach will raise their full armies to crusade against the Targaryen alongside you. You only need to, in the name of the Holy War, bestow blessings upon these warriors and call upon the followers of the world to join in this great undertaking."
He paused: "As for the matter of the Church not being allowed to have armed forces, we can first gather the pious followers of the Seven and form a knightly order, in the name of protecting the septs and the followers."
"For subsequent matters, we can send a letter to Lord Tywin Lannister. I believe that with Lord Tywin's piety toward the Seven, he will not refuse to support such a just Holy War."
The High Septon's expression shifted.
Form a knightly order? Didn't that mean the Church could once again have armed forces?
This would undoubtedly greatly increase his authority as High Septon.
And according to Leyton's meaning, he only needed to bestow blessings in the name of the Seven and issue the decree of Holy War to crusade against the heresy; he didn't need to personally face that terrifying Three-headed Dragon.
This seemed... worth considering?
Leyton saw the hesitation and softening in his eyes and decided to add more chips: "At that time, Oldtown will gather followers of the Seven from the entire Seven Kingdoms. The Starry Sept will become the new center of the faith of the Seven."
"We will nominate you, High Septon, to preside over the Starry Sept, becoming the true pinnacle of the faith in the Seven Kingdoms. Moreover, after the matter is accomplished and the heretical false god is removed, you will be the saint who revived the Church and defended the faith."
"The glory and power you will have in the future will be even greater than when you were in King's Landing."
This sentence was like a boulder thrown into a pond, stirring up ripples.
The High Septon was stunned for a long time, then finally realized... this was a good deal where he didn't have to take any risks, and could gain credit and power for free.
He quickly straightened his somewhat hunched body, the embarrassment and fear on his face swept away, replaced by a radiant spirit: "Indeed! Indeed! With the Seven's blessing and Lord Leyton presiding over the big picture, why worry that heresy won't be extinguished? I will follow all the Lord's arrangements!"
Leyton nodded slightly, a look of satisfaction on his face, although that satisfaction was mixed with an imperceptible coldness: "Then I will trouble you, High Septon. As for the specific details, I will have Baelor discuss them with you in detail."
The High Septon nodded repeatedly, said a few more flattering words, and left the study under Baelor's guidance.
Inside the study, only Leyton Hightower remained once again.
He slowly walked back to the massive map of The Reach, his gaunt fingers lightly tapping on the location of Oldtown, then slowly tracing across the rivers and fields of The Reach, finally landing in the North... the area where the Targaryen forces were located.
Outside the window, the bells of the Starry Sept rang out again, melodious and solemn.
Whether it succeeds or fails, it all depends on this one move.
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